


Brooklyn Nine-Nine Request Book

by try_again_love



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, Angry Amy Santiago, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bad Parent Roger Peralta, Biphobia, Bisexual Amy Santiago, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Female Character of Color, Bisexual Jake Peralta, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Rosa Diaz, Canon Bisexual Character, Coming Out, Discrimination, Domestic Violence, Early Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Engagement, Episode: s02e09 The Road Trip, Episode: s02e23 Johnny and Dora, Episode: s05e12 Safe House, Episode: s05e20 Show Me Going, Established Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Getting Together, Glasses, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hurt Amy Santiago, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Jake Peralta, Insecurity, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta Needs a Hug, Jake Peralta Wears Glasses, Jake Peralta is Bad at Feelings, Jealous Amy Santiago, Menstruation, Nervousness, Nicknames, Nightmares, Non-Canon Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Poison, Poisoning, Post-Prison, Pregnant Amy Santiago, Protective Amy Santiago, Protective B99 Squad, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roger Peralta Bashing, Rosa Diaz Has Feelings (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), Sad with a Happy Ending, Soft Rosa Diaz, Starvation, That's it, Torture, Trauma, Undercover Missions, Unhealthy Relationships, Vomiting, Whump, emotional torture, first I love yous, i'm done, i'm done adding tags to this, no more tags for you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 36,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/try_again_love/pseuds/try_again_love
Summary: I am now taking requests for Brooklyn Nine-Nine one-shots! See the first chapter for details.
Relationships: Doug Judy/Jake Peralta, Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta & The Brooklyn Nine-Nine Squad, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Sophia Perez, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Rosa Diaz & Jake Peralta, Rosa Diaz & The Brooklyn Nine-Nine Squad, Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn Nine-Nine) & Captain Holt, Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)/Female Reader, Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)/Reader, Rosa Diaz/Amy Santiago, Rosa Diaz/Original Character(s)
Comments: 170
Kudos: 288





	1. Introduction

Hi everyone! I'm try_again_love.

I've been writing a lot of Brooklyn Nine-Nine fanfiction lately, and I have some more ideas, but I want to take a break from that. Instead, I'm going to be taking requests. Plus, I've seen a couple of these around and it looks like fun.

You can take a look at my other fics- I Love You and I'm Sorry, You Will Not Define Me, and A Thousand Ways to Fail at Love- to see if you like my work. If you do, comment on this fic with your requests!

**HI. PLEASE READ THIS. AS OF JANUARY 29, 2021, 10:38 PM. I AM ON HIATUS. THIS IS TEMPORARY. READ CHAPTER 21 FOR MORE DETAILS, I HAVE A FEW UPDATES TO SHARE.**

**I REPEAT. IT IS FEBRUARY 16TH, 2021, AND I AM STILL ON HIATUS. I LOVE YOU GUYS VERY MUCH AND I LOVE WRITING YOUR REQUESTS, BUT PLEASE STOP SENDING MORE IN. I HAVE SO MANY IN MY INBOX AND I CAN'T SAY NO TO YOU BECAUSE YOUR REQUESTS ARE SO CREATIVE AND COOL AND I DON'T WANT TO DISAPPOINT ANYONE. I LOVE YOU ALL VERY MUCH. PLEASE STOP.**

**What I Will Write:**

\- Fluff and Angst

\- Heavy Angst

\- Minor Character Death

\- Rape/Non-Con (as angst, not regular smut)

\- AUs

\- Violence + Gore

\- Abuse

\- Canon Ships

\- Most Non-Canon Ships (if you're not sure, just ask!)

\- Continuations (if you request them) 

**What I Won't Write:**

\- Smut

\- Incest 

\- Pedophilia

\- Major Character Death

\- RPF

\- Fandoms that aren't B99 (sorry)

If it's not on the list, I probably will write it for you. Again, if you're not sure, ask! 

I'm looking forward to your requests :)

Thanks,

\- try_again_love

**NEW - WAITING LIST** **(** _italics = in progress,_ **bold = on deck,** underline = under consideration) (if none are in progress, I'm working on another project)

**1\. Six_Is_Life -**

**Can I request a Rosa Assassin AU? Maybe Gina or someone hires her to kill Amy and she goes undercover but falls in love with Amy instead? Oh shit. I want to write this now. Thanks!**

2\. Anonymous -

Hey! Could you write something about jake getting tortured in front of holt when they're both in that warehouse at the end of the safe house ep

3\. Anon - 

Hey could I request a Rosa Vampire AU? with Rosa/Amy please?? thanks, I hope you're ok and I love your writing

4\. evil_empress -

Hey can you write something angsty about Jake and Kevin in the safe house?

5\. Annie Welsh -

Love this! Can you please write another Rosa/Amy where Rosa is a vampire and Amy is her victim?

6\. Megan -

Jake is a single dad, with a daughter no one knows about

7\. hehe-

can u do one in jakes pov of the "puzzle master" episode? like he gets insecure over Melvin? and then amy comforts him and have a really fluffy ending? thanksss!

8\. innefablycurious - 

I'd like to see some angst (because i love angst) of Rosa's wife Amy during Show Me Going (hahahahaha I'm a masochist) Shit happens, Holt orders her to go home it gets so bad, forbids her from coming back until the next day. she ends up relapsing (she had issues before) and cutting again. (oh no what am i doing) Rosa, well, haha, doesn't get home till late, like, 4 am late. Amy is like "you came home, you actually came home." because, you know, she's waiting by the door, really fucking scared. And then when they go to hug or kiss, Rosa finds, well, haha, le lacerations (oh no) so she's like "babe.. you're not fine" and amy still tries to hide it but then midway through that she breaks down sobbing.

9\. anonamouslemonbubbletea -

Hi, can you do a Jake/Doug Judy? I don't really care about the details, there is just not enough content for this ship and I need more.

10\. Malena99Bee -

Can You do a Rosa Diaz and Amy Santiago Fanfic? Infantilism. Age Play. Little Amy.

11\. Unknown2006 - 

Hey, do you think you can do a Dianetti sickfic where Rosa gets a stomach bug, and tries her best not to show it at work, Gina finds out and takes care of her (timing should be in season 4)

12\. TheDemonInside -

Can we pretty please have one where like the vulture starts beating on Jake to get more cases. He kinda just takes one for (several) for the team because he doesn't want the vulture near them. Then one day he's just so beaten, and in so much pain that he just collapses in the precinct and everyone is rushing about worrying for him? Bonus for dad!Holt.

13\. famicom -

how about Jake confronting Amy about the therapy scam, I know it was the heist but I honestly felt that was going too far (especially given that she was violating his trust on days where it was not Halloween)

14\. unknown -

hi just randomly thought of this but in coral palms amys allowed to write to jake and is there any chance u could maybe write the letter? just thought this might be cool. thanks!

15\. unknown - 

amys reaction to jakes text in the therapist

16\. Anonymous bruh - 

I was wondering if you could write something kind of like where everyone in the 99 has super powers, but no one knows Jake has one too? Jake's could be like really gruesome / evil (kinda like Shigaraki's from mha) just for funsies lol. Preferably angsty. 

17\. SelkiesDream

I would like you to make me a story about Jake giving a live chicken to Amy during her birthday, not knowing the fact that the chicken can talk. Hilarity ensures.


	2. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first request, y'all!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Rape/Non-Con
> 
> From Amelia209: "I have an idea can you do something where Jake gets raped and he has to tell Amy about it and make it angsty"

The file landed atop the closed cases mound of garbage on Jake's desk with a satisfying 'thump', followed shortly by a yell from the man himself.

"Hear ye, hear ye, Jake Peralta is amazing!" 

"Hell yeah, the Jake-hammer strikes again," added Charles. 

The squad gave a collective eye-roll, but they let Jake have a moment. He and Boyle had been working this case for weeks. It'd driven both of them right up to the edge.

A few self-indulgent moments later, Rosa shot a pointed look at Jake. "Don't be a dick. Boyle helped."

"Right, sorry- hear ye, hear ye, I have an addendum: Charles Boyle is also amazing, and we're going to Shaw's for a drank!" Jake shouted, stretching out the last word for emphasis. 

"Oh, Jakey, I would love to come, but Genevieve and I haven't had as much time together as usual because of this case and I promised her a night of sensual hair-washing as soon as I finished it," Charles lamented. 

"Seriously, what is it with you and hair-washing?"

"It's the most intimate activity two lovers-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Jake glanced hopefully at his girlfriend, "You wanna come?" 

Amy shook her head, "Sorry, I have to call my mom tonight. But hey, you go to Shaw's and celebrate. Meet me at my apartment after, I should be done by then."

Jake's smile gave way to a goofy grin. "Sounds good, I'll see you then." 

* * *

Jake was on drink two when the woman approached him. She was young and beautiful, and she had a pleasant lilt to her voice. 

"Hey, can I buy you another drink?"

He couldn't help being a little flattered.

"I'm alright, thanks."

"You sure?"

Jake nodded. 

"You know, you're very handsome."

"And you're," he hesitated, "you look nice, but-"

"I'm good for whatever you want," she whispered, getting up close to his face. 

"I have a girlfriend," he stammered. 

"She doesn't have to know."

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "I'm not really interested, sorry."

"But you do think I'm pretty, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but I-"

He was interrupted by her hand sliding down his back.

"Actually, I think I'm just going to finish my drink and head home."

"Go ahead," she said, smirking. Jake thought it seemed threatening, but he didn't quite know why.

For some reason, Jake struggled to remember what happened after that. 

He tried to stand up, but the world started spinning and he sat back down again. 

"I don't feel so good," he slurred. 

A woman seemed to be speaking to him, but he felt like his ears were filled with water.

"I want to go home." The lights flashed painfully in front of him. 

"You will soon, just don't put up a fight." 

Suddenly, there were hands on him and he wanted them to go away.

But he wanted to go home more. "Okay," he murmured drowsily. 

Jake couldn't remember a single thing in the next few minutes that didn't make him want to vomit. 

* * *

Amy had been waiting hours for Jake when the worry really started to set in. There was no way a visit to Shaw's by himself would take that long, right? 

She grabbed her keys and phone, making the decision to go and check on her boyfriend, but when she opened the door, she almost crashed into him.

The first thing she noticed was the shaking. Then, as her eyes scanned upwards, she stopped at his face. Jake had been crying. 

"Woah, are you okay?" He didn't answer. 

"Jake, how long have you been standing out here?"

He shook his head, unable to meet her gaze, "I don't know."

Amy's heart dropped to her stomach. What on earth had happened?

"Come inside, please."

He still didn't say anything as she led him to the couch. "Your car's not here, did you walk?"

More tears streamed down his face. "I don't remember how I got here."

He stood up suddenly and staggered to the bathroom, collapsing over the toilet. 

"How much did you have to drink?" Amy asked, concern softening her words.

"I think," he squinted in concentration, "just two."

"Jake, what the hell happened?"

He broke into sobs. Amy slid down gently next to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Is this okay?" He nodded in response. 

"I'm scared, Ames."

She wrapped herself tighter around him, her mind spinning from trying to figure out what was going on. 

"Can you please tell me what happened?"

"You're gonna hate me," he choked out. 

"Whatever it is, I promise I won't hate you." She looked up at him, and this time he returned her stare. Now, she could see the full extent of the fear in his eyes and every part of her wished that she could take it away. 

"Promise?" His voice wavered. Amy nodded, squeezing his hand. 

"There was this girl at the bar..." 

He trailed off, only continuing when Amy encouraged him, "She hit on me, and at first, I was kinda flattered, but I told her I wasn't interested."

"She kept going, and she got really close to me and she started touching me," he shuddered, "I told her I was just going to finish my drink and leave, and she smiled. I don't know why. Then, I started to feel really sick and she took me somewhere, I think, and she-" he stopped abruptly. 

"Oh, babe," Amy began. 

"I cheated on you, Ames," he cried out. 

"No, no! You didn't. Jake, she drugged and raped you."

"But I didn't actually tell her no." Amy could feel the waves of shame rolling off of him. 

"You told me you said you weren't interested. She should've stopped then. This is not your fault."

"Later, when we were, um, somewhere, she told me that if I didn't put up a fight I could go home and I told her 'okay.' I gave her permission."

Amy's insides melted, "You were drugged. You don't even remember where you were."

"I told her she looked nice. I told her I thought she was pretty."

"That doesn't mean yes. Compliments don't mean yes. You told her you weren't interested and you told her you were leaving. That should have been enough."

Amy took a deep breath and repeated, "You did not cheat on me. This is not your fault."

Jake leaned against her, still shivering. "I wanna take a shower. Can I take a shower?"

"Honey, I know, but we should go to the hospital first. You need to get tested, and maybe they can collect any evidence that's still on you in case you decide to report," she told him, trying to sound gentle. 

She could feel Jake's heartbeat skyrocket. "I can't report. No one will believe me. The squad will be so disappointed that I let this happen."

"No one is going to be disappointed in you for this, at least, not anybody that matters. Besides, you don't have to report, but you do need to get tested."

"I don't want to take away from women's issues."

"I love you, but that's ridiculous. Just because it happens to women more often doesn't mean it didn't happen to you. Your experience is just as valid as anybody else's. And I'm not going to force you to report, but I didn't and I regret it. Either way, I'll be there with you every step of the way if that's what you want."

"I don't know. What if nobody believes me?"

Amy sighed, "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe, if you're comfortable with it, we can talk to Holt tomorrow about your options. He won't judge you, no one at the 9-9 will."

Jake furrowed his brows. After a long pause, he nodded, "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

He drew in a sharp breath, Amy's hand gripped tightly in his own, "Okay, let's go to the hospital."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the rest of you that have requested since I first posted this, I'm working on it. I hope you enjoyed this story in the meantime, and (not that you haven't been, but) please be patient with me.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> \- try_again_love


	3. Take Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took off fast. I have two requests that fit very well together, so I'm going to combine them. 
> 
> From Anonymoose: "This is very cool! Would you mind writing anything Rosa-centric? Preferably angsty."
> 
> From emmie: "Could you write something about how the active shooter situation in Show Me Going affected Rosa?"
> 
> The second request seems to fit the criteria of the first one (Rosa-centric and angsty), so I'm going to smush these two into one. Obviously, it takes place during/after 5x20 Show Me Going.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of a shooting, panic attacks, emotional trauma

Rosa had said she took the stairs because she liked walking. That was true.

But maybe she also knew that the elevator wouldn't provide nearly enough time for her to pull herself together. On the stairs, she could take as much time as she wanted and no one would know. 

When she told them she was messing with them by taking the stairs and Jake yelled that he hated pranks, she couldn't miss the flash of emotion in his eyes: anger, relief, fear. It sent a chill through her spine. She remembered the same feelings coursing through her veins mixed with adrenaline as the shooters had been apprehended. 

It happened again when Amy ran to her, her hair a mess, covered in toilet water, eyes red and puffy. On one hand, it felt amazing to know that these people really cared. On the other, one more fucking emotion and Rosa might've legit stabbed someone. So she told them she needed to spend the night alone and get some rest. 

Also not a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. 

And if she cried just a little bit when she saw their faces, well, nobody needed to know. 

* * *

Rosa thought she could hide the after-effects of the event pretty well. Yes, she spent most of her time around a precinct filled with New York's best detectives, but she seemed to hide everything else about herself pretty well. What she didn't think of was that said precinct of detectives wasn't actually trying to uncover her secrets because they respected her privacy. Information directly related to her wellbeing was another story. 

The first sign that something was wrong was the anger. Rosa had never been level-headed, but she'd also never been jumpy. Charles approached her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. Normally, this didn't set her off. Today, Charles nearly lost a limb. He didn't approach her for the rest of the day. 

The second was the fatigue. Unless she was angry, Rosa had always been unreadable. If she was tired, she didn't show it. But recently, bags had appeared under her eyes. Amy counted an average of 2.7 more cups of coffee per day than before the shooter incident (she had a handmade graph). Holt's hypothesis was that these new phenomena were caused by nightmares. 

Rosa was especially strange in the field, thoroughly checking all passageways before entering and working quickly and aggressively with criminals.

It became blatantly obvious to Jake after working a case with her. Things had been going smoothly until the perp pulled a gun not on Rosa, but on Jake. Within seconds, the perp was on the ground, Rosa on top of him. She cuffed him and threw him in the car. Jake could hear her breathing, heavy and shaking. 

"Rosa, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she barked, "Let's just get back to the precinct." She reached for the door handle but froze in her tracks. 

"Rosa?" he repeated. 

A few silent tears escaped her eyes and blood rushed in her ears. She didn't speak. 

Jake gently took her hand, leading her away from the car and into an alley. Once they arrived, he dropped it, aware of her distaste for physical comfort. 

"You don't have to be fine. You know that, right?"

"Fuck," she whispered, hands trembling and heart pounding in her chest. She bit her lip, trying to stop the tears and the feelings and all of it. 

"How can I help you?"

She struggled to say the words. "I want to go home."

"Can you tell me your address?"

"No. I don't want to go to my house, I want to go home."

Jake tilted his head in confusion, "Okay, where's home?"

"Precinct."

A small smile crossed Jake's face for just a moment, "Got it. I'll call someone to take care of the perp."

Awkwardly, she wrapped her arms around him. 

"I got you. Now let's go," he said. 

* * *

Jake and Rosa stepped off of the elevator and into the bullpen, where a lieutenant, a sergeant, several detectives, and one very angry captain awaited their arrival.

"Why did you call for backup? Where is your perpetrator?" Holt inquired.

Jake shot a glance at Rosa. "Something... more important came up."

Holt shook his head in disapproval. "Good lord, Peralta. What could possibly be important enough to warrant calling for backup on a criminal that has already been arrested?"

"I had a panic attack on the job, sir."

"Oh. Are you," he hesitated, "functioning appropriately?"

"Yes, sir, I'm okay." The squad eyed her questioningly. 

"Fuck, no I'm not. I can't do this."

Jake immediately pulled her into a hug, shortly followed by Holt, Charles, Amy, Terry, and Gina. Rosa was surprised to find that she was only mildly uncomfortable with it. 

Terry spoke up, "It's the shooter situation, right?"

Rosa nodded. "I can't sleep, and I'm scared of everything. I don't feel safe anywhere. I hate it. I'm so useless," she spat. 

Amy was quick to object. "You're not useless. You're an amazing detective and a badass woman. Plus, you're literally my best friend. I'm sure you've done lots of other amazing stuff too, but I don't know anything about your life."

"Yeah, I'm afraid of everything too and I still have lots of uses," Charles added. 

"But somebody died. I was there when he got shot. I let another officer die."

"It's not your fault he died," Gina insisted, "The only person to blame is the asshole who shot him."

"But-"

"Where's the lie?" Rosa shrugged.

"Hey, what if we took turns staying at your apartment with you to make sure you're okay? That is, assuming you're chill with us knowing where you live." Jake chuckled at his own joke.

Rosa melted a little bit as she thought about it. Her friends cared enough to do that for her. It would be nice to have someone, not to protect her (she didn't need protecting), but just to be there. Doing this alone wasn't an option anymore.

Maybe she did have people she could trust. 

"Sure," she said nonchalantly- hiding her feelings, as usual- "I can always move."

Jake snorted. "Sounds good." 

Holt smiled to himself at the closeness of his squad, "Remember Diaz, we are always here for you. There is no shame in asking for help."

"I will, thanks."

She felt herself well up. 

_Damn, I've cried more times this week than I've cried in my entire life._


	4. Blind in More Ways Than One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a fun one:
> 
> From b99detectivealpaca: "Jake with glasses. That’s it, that’s the fic. 😂😂😂"

Amy wrapped her arms around his hips and reached up for a kiss.

"I'm so excited! My first night at your place," she said. 

"I know, me too," he murmured. He gently pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm so glad you're here." 

Amy's smile gave way to a goofy grin only Jake had the privilege of seeing. 

"Babe, I'm gonna go take a shower. You can watch TV or read a book or whatever. I left some crosswords on the coffee table- not from the New York Times because I know you do those the day they come out."

"I love you, go shower."

He untangled himself from her and started off towards the bathroom. Amy flopped down on his couch and was shocked to discover that she had not, in fact, already done the crosswords that he'd chosen for her. Amy felt the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye. _He knows me so well._

Contentedly, she did her crosswords. 

Somehow, he must have timed it perfectly because he left her the exact right amount of crosswords to finish in the time it took him to shower. She looked up to find him in a pair of flannel pants, an NYPD t-shirt, and an adorable pair of big, round glasses. She could tell just by looking at them that he was at least as blind as she was. 

"I didn't know you wore glasses," she smirked. He averted his gaze and turned a shade of red Amy had never seen before. 

"I forgot I put them on, sorry. I'll go put them away," he muttered shyly. She stared perplexedly at him.

"Why would you do that?" 

He seemed to sink into his shirt. "I know, I look kind of dumb in them." Amy's confusion intensified.

"I wasn't being sarcastic; you look fine. You look _good,_ _"_ she insisted. He shrugged nonchalantly, blushing. 

"You don't have to be nice about it, I can take them off."

Amy shook her head, "No, please. Keep them."

She paused for a moment before adding, "Jake, are you insecure about your glasses?"

He was quick to answer her this time, "What? Me, insecure? No way." He laughed awkwardly.

"Jake-"

"No, it's fine. Everything's fine."

"Hey, Jake!" she said, raising her voice a bit. Then, she softened again, "It doesn't have to be fine. You're allowed to be, you know, not fine."

He slumped onto the couch next to her, still avoiding eye contact. "I hate my glasses. They're freakishly large and they make my nose look even bigger."

"Okay, none of that is even remotely true."

"My face looks stupid."

Amy snorted with laughter, "Your face doesn't look stupid at all. I like your face." She pressed a kiss to his lips, "I like your face, a lot."

Jake curled into her chest while she rubbed comforting circles into his back. 

"Thanks, Amy," he whispered. 

"I love you, every part of you," she replied, "Never forget that." 

She pulled him in closer, not unaware of the gentle sigh that escaped him. He may have been blind, but Amy Santiago was going to make sure he saw how perfect he was if it was the last thing she did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b99detectivealpaca, I hope you like the direction I went with this. Insecure Jake is my favorite.


	5. what if it's us (and only us)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Peraltiagoxxx: "Could you write a fic about jealous Amy (probably Jake bumps into one of his exes or some random girl starts to hit on him)"
> 
> Title is from "Only Us" from Dear Evan Hansen.

"I'm so excited for movie night!" Amy said, entwining her hand in her boyfriend's.

"Me too! I've been dying to see Knives Out."

As they approached the convenience store, they separated.

"You handle snacks, I'll get blankets," she ordered. 

"On it. Meet at the counter when you're finished."

Jake turned to the snack aisle and was gone in a flash. Amy started her own mission, trying to determine which blanket was the softest. She thought she had found the one, but it was made for one person and definitely wouldn't fit both Jake and her. She kept searching. She was almost at the end of the aisle when she discovered the perfect blanket. It was even softer than the other one that she'd picked up, thicker, and plenty large enough for the both of them. She was just about to go to the counter when she heard her partner's familiar laugh.

She peeked around to the snack aisle to see a gorgeous blonde woman. She said something else that Amy couldn't quite make out and Jake laughed, _again._

 _Who gave her the right to make my boyfriend laugh?_ Amy quickly shut that thought down. She didn't need to be jealous, she could trust Jake, and jealousy was not a good feeling. Besides, technically, the First Amendment gave her the right to say whatever the hell she wanted to anyone she could reach. 

"You're hilarious," Jake said to her.

She smirked, "And you're a cutie."

A subtle blush crept up Jake's face. He awkwardly shrugged, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm Angela," she reached out to shake his hand. 

He took it. "Jake."

"Nice to meet you, Jake." She pulled a pen and a piece of paper from her purse, wrote something down on it, and handed it to him. 

"Call me," she winked playfully. 

Jake's jaw dropped in surprise, "Oh, I'm not-"

Amy couldn't take it anymore. She ran out from her hiding spot, still clutching a giant blanket, an ever so slightly manic glint in her eye. 

"He's taken, Angela!" she shouted, her voice dripping with venom.

Angela rolled her eyes, "By who? You? He'll get tired of a crazy chick like you faster than you can say 'psycho.'"

The shock on Jake's face morphed into anger, "Don't talk about Amy like that!"

"I'm just trying to do you a favor."

"No, you're being an asshole. You don't know anything about our relationship, and let me tell you, it is the best one I have ever been in," he retorted. 

"Really? What kind of freaks did you get with before her?" she mocked, pointing at Amy. 

Jake's eyes went dark with unadulterated rage, "Fuck off, Angela." He shoved her number into his pocket. 

She sighed in contempt and turned away, leaving the store. 

Jake turned to Amy, instantly relaxing again, "Come on, Amy. Let's go enjoy our movie night."

They checked out together, Jake refusing to tell her what snacks he'd bought. The walk home was quiet. 

When they arrived at their shared apartment, they collapsed on the couch. 

"Ames, pass me the blanket." She obliged but didn't make eye contact. 

"Babe, are you okay?"

Amy sighed, but she didn't answer.

Jake took a deep breath, "You know that what happened at the store was bullshit, right? I'm not going to get tired of you, and I meant it when I said that there's never been anything or anyone better than you in my life."

"But she was right, I'm kind of a freak. I mean, I own more than 100 binders and I deep clean everything I own at least three times a week. I wear a giant, ugly pair of glasses whenever we're at home alone together. I'm a nerd. She's not." 

Jake stared incredulously at her. "First of all, your glasses are hot AF. Second, who cares if you're a nerd? Your cleaning compensates for how much of a slob I am and I love watching you get excited about nerdy things. It's adorable. I love every part of you, binder obsession included. I literally think you are the most perfect person ever. Now let's forget about stupid Angela and her stupid opinion and watch a movie together," he grinned, "Open the snack bag." 

She tilted her head at him questioningly. She pulled out the standard chips and popcorn, her favorite brands and flavors. Then, she got to the bottom of the bag. 

"Jake, what's in this box?" He shrugged, grin getting wider by the second. 

"I know you love Japanese candy," he trailed off. 

Amy opened the box to find a massive assortment of, yep, Japanese candies. Just by looking at the top layer, she could spot five of her favorites. 

"Oh my god! You're the best."

"I know," he said smugly, "Now, who's ready for some murder comedy?"

Amy smiled and pressed play. 

* * * 

"I can't believe I get to marry you in three months," Jake murmured. 

From across the room, Amy replied, "I can't believe I get to deep clean our apartment."

Jake pouted at her. 

"I'm kidding. I can't wait." She opened a box of Jake's things. On top was a slip of paper, one she recognized. 

"Jake, what the hell?"

"What's wrong, Ames?" he asked gently. 

"Don't 'Ames' me. Why did you keep this?" She waved Angela's number in his face. 

Jake snorted with laughter, "Well, you know how she said that thing about how I'd get tired of you and we'd never last?"

"Jake, what did you-"

"I may or may not have sent her a very elaborate evite to our wedding," he confessed.

A massive grin broke out across Amy's face. 

"I love you so much."

"I love you too, Ames."

He wrapped his arms around her and she pressed a kiss to his lips.

Jake's phone beeped.

"She said no. Also, I think she blocked me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took kind of l long. I rushed to write it, and when it was finished it really wasn't good, so I scrapped the whole thing and started over. 
> 
> Also, if you haven't seen Knives Out, you should see it.


	6. It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn't it though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Guesttttt: "Can you write a fic where Amy is very jealous of Jake and Sophia and she regrets not breaking up with Teddy and getting together with Jake sooner... And also "Johnny and Dora" from her perspective if poss :)"
> 
> Sorry this one took longer than usual, life happened and I was out of commission for a couple days. I couldn't write at all.
> 
> This takes place right after 2x09 The Road Trip and continues up until 2x23 Johnny and Dora. 
> 
> Title is from the song "Bad Idea" in the musical Waitress because apparently I like to give Jealous Amy™ fics musical theatre names.

The second Amy shut the door behind her, she burst into tears. The whole weekend had been an absolute disaster.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she whispered aloud to herself. 

She knew the answer. Amy had made the terrible mistake of shoving her feelings down deep, ignoring her massive crush on a certain adorably goofy detective, and dating the human equivalent of being stuck in traffic. Now she had no one, not even the most boring man alive- though she supposed being alone was probably better than being with him- and Jake was with someone else. 

"He'd rather date a defense attorney, a freakin' defense attorney, than me." She groaned, letting the sound build in her chest until it was closer to a scream.

She wondered what Sophia had that she didn't. Sure, she was talented, whip-smart, gorgeous, and level-headed, and then there were the obsessions with hot wings and Die Hard so huge they almost matched Jake's. Actually, now that she thought about it, it made a lot of sense that he would pick her over him. They were just friends, and that was all they'd ever be. 

Nonetheless, she wanted more. She _needed_ more. Never in her life had she wished harder to be someone else.

* * *

As she lay awake in bed, all she could hear was the sound of Jake playing on repeat in her head. Specifically, his teasing on the way home. She hadn’t objected to it to avoid arousing his suspicion, but every quip he made about how she used to like him strengthened the ache in her chest. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he was wrong. She didn’t ‘used’ to like Jake, she still did. And, the worst part, had she not wasted her time being indecisive and denying her feelings, then maybe she wouldn’t have to hide the stab of jealousy that struck her every time she saw them together. Maybe she would be the one is his arms instead of Sophia. Maybe he would be here, right now, with her, and she wouldn’t feel so unbearably alone.

* * *

Jake was even later to work than usual, and his entrance carried none of its usual flair. Captain Holt had addressed him regarding his tardiness, and he’d simply apologized, not a dumb joke in sight, not even a lame excuse. This was what drew Amy’s concern. She assumed she would have to pry it out of him, but as per usual, Detective Peralta was an open book. Within an hour, the news had spread around the squad that Sophia had broken up with him, most receiving the information directly from Jake himself.

“I told her I loved her and she dumped me. It sucked very bad,” he’d explained to her.

“Wow, that’s rough,” Amy had said, and despite her conflict of interest, she really did feel bad about it. Jake wasn’t just a crush, he was her friend. She wanted him to be happy, and watching him desperately check his phone approximately every 24 seconds, she knew that he wa _s_ definitely... not.

She wouldn’t see him brighten up again until the federal drill the Nine-Nine had been invited to.

Though he’d spent most of the day with Charles, she couldn’t help but relish the few moments they’d shared. Jake was happy for the first time since Sophia had dumped him. (Amy wondered why on earth she would give up someone like him.) Not only that, but he might even be approaching emotional availability! Amy shut that thought down quickly, trying to focus on her friend’s happiness.

Against her every will, an ember of hope remained, flickering deep inside of her.

* * *

"I could probably just take Boyle, I know Amy has a ton of work so..."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, "No, I don't."

"Really?" he asked awkwardly, "I could have sworn I overheard you telling Rosa, 'Girlfriend, please. I got hella open cases.'"

She stared at him bemusedly.

"That's something you think I said?"

"Word for word. No diggity, no doubt."

It was obvious. Jake didn't want her on this case, but why? The pang of hurt that sank in her stomach was inevitable. 

Immediately after the briefing, she charged after Peralta straight to the break room.

"Hey, did I do something to you? Are you mad? Is this because I brushed all of the crumbs off your desk?"

"What? No, I don't care about that," he paused, "Do you know where they are?"

"In the trash," she answered quickly, internally rolling her eyes with a sense of reluctant amusement as he grunted softly with disappointment. 

"Alright, if it's not that, then why are you trying to keep me off this case?"

"Oh, that. Alright, look, the reason that I didn't want to work with you is- should I do this in an accent so that I can undercut some of the awkwardness I'm feeling?"

"No," she said, wishing she could scream at him to just tell her already. 

"Good call." 

He sighed defeatedly. 

"Remember when you told me that you didn't want to date cops?"

She nodded innocently, pretending she hadn't figured out where this was going yet. Her insides swirled with panic (and a smidge of excitement that she was trying to ignore).

Adding an accent despite their previous agreement, he continued. "That really bummed me out, man."

"Jamaican?"

"Yeah, it was a bad choice. I'm much better at German. Alright, fine, I was kind of thinking about asking you out."

"Oh, okay." Her shock was real. Sure, she knew to some degree what he was going to say, but a little piece of her still couldn't believe it was happening. 

"But I know that that's not what you want, and I totally get it. I think it just took me a while to totally-totally get it, and now I totally get it."

Amy mentally smacked herself for her no-dating-cops policy. She wanted to tell him- right here, right now- that he was wrong and she did want that, more than he could ever know. 

Instead, she said, "Jake this is weird. The whole point of me not dating cops is so that it wouldn't be weird at work."

"Okay, so let's just make it not weird, right? This is a case; we work cases together all the time, and we're really good at it, so, you know, we're professionals."

She could hardly hear him over the sound of blood pounding in her ears as she prepared to tell the biggest lie she'd ever told outside of an undercover assignment. "That's all I want, for us to be professional."

"We're in agreement," he nodded solemnly. Then, in a horrifyingly inaccurate and strangely high-pitched German accent, "It will be good and professional!"

She couldn't bring herself to laugh. Too much of her energy was focused on trying to ignore the agonizing twisting sensation that she identified (correctly) as heartbreak. 

* * * 

Amy walked into the restaurant alongside Jake, struggling to ignore the feeling of affection that stirred in her as he complained about not having time to lotion his forearms, as well as how quickly her attention sailed through the bajillion things in her brain with ease just to land on said forearms. 

She barely noticed their perp out of the corner of her eye in time to stop Jake from blowing their cover. 

When the hostess didn't have a table for them, she panicked. They needed eyes on Augustine. Fortunately (for the case, at least), Detective Santiago was quick on her feet. Silently, she cursed her stupid brain for being filled with stupid thoughts about stupid romance. Then, she put on the most sickly-sweet voice she could muster.

"Oh no, that's horrible. Tonight's a really important night for us. Johnny and I just got engaged, and this is where our first date was."

She felt Jake's arm tense as she pulled herself against him. He was great at undercover work, but Amy knew him well enough to tell that he was enjoying this about as much as she was.

"Oh, yeah, it would mean so much to Dora and me. I would have made a reservation, but I didn't know if she was going to say yes, so..."

She did her best to brush her feelings aside and do her job.

"Oh, I love how nervous you were, you little goose." She sealed the deal with a peck on his cheek. She silently willed the conversation to end. When it did, she rushed to their table as quickly as she could. 

"Sorry about springing the engagement and romantic stuff on you."

"No, no, no," he stammered, "That was great. I mean, it's what got us in here. Cheek kiss was a bit much. Very wet," he said, smiling.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Dora's sloppy," she deadpanned. Relief washed over her at the familiar comfort of their normal, regular, nothing-is-weird-nope-not-at-all banter. It looked like the rest of the night was going to go smoothly, criminals aside, until they got seated next to Augustine and his sidepiece. 

Somehow, Amy knew that she and Jake had just had the same thought at the same time: _shit._

* * *

"So when did you guys meet?"

Jake and Amy blurted out two different answers. 

Amy jumped in, "We first met five years ago," she turned to Augustine, "but we don't count it, because-"

"I was dating a speedboat model at the time." 

Amy suppressed the irrational jealousy she felt at the prospect of Jake dating someone else, even fictitiously.

"And I was dating a super handsome comptroller of a major U.S. city."

"Anyways, about a year ago, we bumped into each other at a bar, and we haven't been able to keep our hands off each other since." Images of Jake's hands on her flooded her mind before she could stop them. 

"So, how did you know she was the one?"

"I'd love to answer that. Um, you know, just whenever I look at her face... and the attached physique." She knew he was only acting awkward because the situation was exceedingly so, but she couldn't help feeling offended that all he saw in her was her body. 

"And you?"

She flinched, "Uh..."

Jake raised a teasing eyebrow at her.

"He makes me laugh."

He softened, "And, you know, there's really no one else's opinion who I care about more than hers, so..."

Amy swore she felt her heart swell.

It only returned to normal when he said that she had the fingers of "a giant, behemoth person." 

* * * 

"Look, there's the buyer," she whispered, "Or maybe he's just actually saying hi to the chef? Why isn't he making the handoff?"

"Oh crap, he saw us. Uh..."

And then, the best and worst moment of her life happened simultaneously. He closed the gap between them, pulling her in with a rough hand, and then a gentler one. 

Augustine approached them. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, hey. We were just looking for a place to, uh-"

Amy cut him off, "Boink." As soon as she'd said it, she wished she could melt into the wall. 

Jake stared at her quizzically. "Yep. Boink. That's my preferred term for it as well."

"I get it. Newly engaged kids. Enjoy."

"Thanks," he muttered awkwardly as Augustine turned and left. 

"Good, good, good, good, good. We kept our cover intact, nice work," he stuttered. 

"Quick professional thinking out there, very quick, very professional."

"Detective." He reached out to shake her hand. 

"Detective." She took it swiftly and abruptly. 

"Let's get back on the case."

"Yes." She cringed for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. 

They raced out. 

* * *

"You guys are so naive. It's never nothing," Charles insisted, "In high school, I played Daddy Warbucks in Annie. Becca Murse played Annie, and we were supposed to hug onstage. At first, that seemed like nothing too, but by opening night, we were full-on making out."

Amy masked her nerves with disgust. Actually, nope, the disgust was totally legitimate on its own. "As Daddy Warbucks and Annie?"

"Mhm, the audience was not on board. Playwright sued the school."

"Guys, guys," Rosa grabbed their attention, "it's not a handoff. He's leaving the package."

"Okay, you and Rosa follow Augustine," Jake instructed.

"Right, and you and Amy, follow your hearts!" She wished she was brave enough to. 

Jake glared at Charles, "No, we're gonna stay with the package."

"And each other, forever."

"Come on, man!"

Amy left the car as fast as she could. 

* * *

"Hey, seriously, we're cool, right?"

_No, I want to kiss you again._

"Yeah, totally. We're fine."

"Good. Gosh, you know, I'm actually a little bit hungry. I never ended up eating at that dumb fancy restaurant."

_You should come to my place. I can get you something to eat that isn't blue or orange and we can spend some time alone._

"You know what I'm getting on my way home?"

"Yeah, you're gonna go to the Polish place and get perogies, potato pancakes, and a cup of hot chocolate."

"That's exactly what I'm gonna get."

_Oh my god, you are my perfect boyfriend. Fuck._

"I will be having pizza, two slices of meat supreme from Tony's, served display temperature."

_How are your gross eating habits so attractive to me?_

"Meat supreme is a million red flags, and eating it cold is just insane."

"No, no, no. It's not cold, it's display temperature."

"Jake." 

"There's a difference, Amy."

"No, Jake," she hissed, "He's looking at us. Well, this is happening."

_Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. **Yes.**_

"Huh?"

She took his face in her hands and pushed him back against a tree. 

_Wow, Dora is_ very _sloppy._

_Oh shit._

"NYPD, freeze! We are police colleagues!"

"You're under arrest! This is a work event."

* * *

Amy stifled giggles as she signed the arrest report.

"Man, I forgot how long your signature takes. I'm just gonna watch Braveheart on my phone real quick."

She sighed in mock-exasperation, eliciting a laugh from him, and then butterflies inside her. 

"Given the circumstances, I can see how that might have seemed like flirty teasing, but I was legit being critical, you have a problem. No, even that sounded like banter now. Alright, there's only one way out of this for me. I just gotta get super cruel. Prepare to have your physical flaws pointed out Amy. I'm talking about your tall butt and your weird elbows."

"Jake, it's okay."

"Thank you."

"This whole night was really weird."

_And I definitely did not enjoy any part of it, at all._

"I know, I just, I want everything to go back how it was. It's so awkward."

"Yeah."

_Yeah, how it was. That was better, right?_

"And you're right. We shouldn't date cops, 'cause we're a great team. We work great together. I don't want to mess that up."

"Yeah, I don't want everything to change."

_But I do want to kiss you again._

"Yeah, me neither."

"Okay, then that's that, Detective Peralta."

"Detective Santiago," He gave a curt nod, "See you around the precinct."

As he exited, he turned in the doorway, "Tall butt."

_I think I love you._

_Wait, what? No. Brain, stop that._

* * *

Jake walked into the evidence room. "Hey."

"Hey," she whispered, hardly able to speak. 

"Thought I might find you in here."

"I just needed to process the captain's news. I feel so bad for him."

"So how're you holding up?" Of course, Jake knew she missed her mentor more than she let on.

"I don't know. I'm still in shock. You?"

"Um, basically handing it the way I dealt with my dad leaving, just repressing the hell out of it."

They smiled and chuckled at each other, though Amy suddenly wished desperately that she could make him hurt less.

"So, a lot of change around here, huh?"

For the third time that day, she and Jake shared a kiss.

This one was a million times better than the other two. 

Because this one was not Johnny and Dora. 

It was Jake and Amy. 


	7. Hold Me While I Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very excited to write this one - 
> 
> From snowy_angela: "Hey! Would you maybe do something about Amy having her period and Jake being the most supportive boyfriend ever - like really fluffy!"
> 
> I finished this kind of late at night and did NOT proofread it, so if you catch any typos please let me know.

"Wow, this documentary is surprisingly interesting," Jake remarked.

Amy smirked smugly. "See? I told you, smart stuff doesn't have to be boring."

"Yeah, yeah, you were right," he muttered, rolling his eyes. 

Her tone changed suddenly, "Hey, can you pause that? I have to run to the bathroom." Not even waiting to check if he did it, she got up off the couch and strode across his apartment. 

"Are you okay?" he called after her. She'd already shut the door. 

A few minutes later, a very embarrassed Amy emerged from the bathroom. 

"You okay?" he repeated.

"I," she hesitated, "I bled through my pants." 

Jake furrowed his brows, "Oh. _Oh."_

There wasn't a mirror nearby, but if there was, Amy was sure she would see her face turn a shade of tomato red. Tears prickled at her eyelids at the thought of how humiliating this was, but she fought them back. 

Suddenly, her boyfriend jumped into action. "Gosh, okay, you can borrow some of my clothes and I can run to the store and get you some... pads or tampons, I don't know what you use. I already have some Advil. Does that work? Is there a different painkiller you like better? Oh! Do you need a heating pad?"

"I'm sorry this happened, it came early-"

Jake gently wrapped his arms around his mortified girlfriend's hips, silencing her. 

"Ames, it's okay. You don't have to be embarrassed, just tell me what you need."

She nodded tensely, "Um... Some pads would be great, the orange ones, and the heating pad since mine is at home. You should be able to get all of that at the CVS down the street."

He kissed her cheek before dropping his hands to his sides again. "You got it. I'll be back soon."

Amy let out a breath, "Thanks, babe." 

After he'd gone, she went into the bedroom, maneuvering herself carefully so as not to dislodge the many layers of toilet paper she'd desperately shoved into her pants. She changed into a soft pair of flannel pants and Jake's NYPD hoodie. Snuggling herself into it, she returned to the living room just in time to hear her phone bing with messages from Jake. 

_**From Jake:** _ _which ones do i get there are so many_

_**From Jake:** you said orange but there are 5 orange ones_

**_From Jake:_ ** _ames how do i do this_

 **_From_ ** _**Jake:** why do they not have sizes between super thin and maxi, you want maxi right? _

**_From Jake:_ ** _amyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy_

 **_From Jake:_ ** _help meeeeeeeee_

Amy snorted with laughter, feeling a glow of affection for this wonderful man and his terrible texting grammar. 

_**To Jake:** Get the 'always' ones, orange, super thin. Whatever you do, do NOT get maxi pads. Those things are like diapers, it's awful. _

_**From Jake:** u got it babe, your knight in shining pjs will be home in 5_

**_From Jake:_ ** _i did not change_

 **_From Jake:_ ** _ppl are staring_

_**To Jake:** I love you. Thanks, Jake. _

**_From Jake:_ ** _❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️_

As promised, Jake was home quickly with supplies. He handed the pads to Amy, who pecked him on the cheek before promptly dashing off to the bathroom. 

"Oh, hey, you're back. I plugged in the heating pad so it would get warm, and I bought you a bar of dark chocolate because the cashier said it would help with cramps, something to do with mercury?"

"You mean magnesium? Mercury is toxic," she chuckled. 

Jake looked taken aback. "Right! I definitely didn't buy you poisonous chocolate, I promise. Did I get everything right?" he asked nervously.

She sat down next to him on the couch, leaning into him. "You did perfectly, and your timing was great because my cramps just started."

"Oh, let me grab the Advil!" He carefully pushed her head off of him, sitting her up before running to grab the medicine and a glass of water. 

"Here, you can take it with the chocolate," he said, sitting back down beside her. 

Once she was done, Jake found himself being used as a pillow while she drifted off. 

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Amy awoke with a start. 

"Woah, relax. I ordered you pierogies and potato pancakes from that Polish place you like, if you're hungry."

Amy nodded sleepily, a drowsy grin spreading across her face. 

Jake came back to the table with two pleasant-smelling takeout containers and a cup of hot chocolate. 

"Let's eat!"

* * * 

Amy tossed and turned in bed, trying to ignore the dull, but persistent ache coming from her lower abdominal region. 

Beside her, Jake's eyelids fluttered. "Ames?" he whispered groggily, "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Cramps woke me up. It's fine, they'll go away." She almost managed to remain neutral, but her voice cracked towards the end of the sentence as the pain intensified, becoming sharper by the second. 

"Shit, I'll get the Advil."

The only response Jake received was a low groan. He returned as fast as he could, a glass of water in tow. 

"You're supposed to take it with food," she muttered. 

His brows furrowed at the obvious pain bleeding through her voice. "I know, I brought you a leftover potato pancake." 

"God, you're the best."

Jake was shocked by how quickly she swallowed the pill, followed shortly after by the potato pancake. 

"Heating pad?"

Amy shook her head. "Not while we sleep, it might set the apartment on fire."

He knew better than to argue with her about safety concerns, "I'll stay awake until you don't need it anymore."

"I love you and that's sweet, but it's 3 AM and you're exhausted. You're gonna fall asleep."

She curled into him, trying to stifle her grunts of pain. Jake felt a piece of himself break every time he heard one. 

Finally, a strangled one escaped her lips and a few tears slipped out. 

"Oh, Ames, I'm getting the heating pad. I'll stay awake, I swear." She didn't try to fight him. 

* * *

She woke up in the morning with her head in Jake's lap, and the heating pad still on.

"Jake! The heating pad-"

"I'm awake. I've been checking it every five minutes," he replied. 

Her panicked expression changed to one of concern, "Did you not sleep at all?"

He shrugged, "Don't worry about it, I can always take a nap later. Anyways, I did some research and I found this thing. It's a heating pad, but it's like one of those hand warmers that you just shake to heat up, so you don't have to plug it in. You can sleep with one on, even if you don't have cramps, that way they won't get bad enough to wake you up in the first place."

"Wait, seriously?"

He smiled. "Yep, I ordered some off the internet, they should be here later today." His last word was cut off by a yawn. 

"Jake, you need to get some sleep." 

"Nope, I'm fine."

He yawned again. 

"Totally fine." He leaned back against the pillow. Amy stumbled across the room to the outlet and unplugged the heating pad. Her eyelids drooped and she realized she was pretty tired herself. She crawled back into bed, pressing a sleepy kiss to Jake's lips before leaning against him. They were both asleep within the next five minutes. 


	8. Approximately Three Murder Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Odium333: "Don’t know if you are overloaded with requests, sorry if you are but could you wrote something where Jake’s dad comes back to town and the squad jump in to protect Jake from being abused again? Or something where Jack is scared of Terry or Holt at first because of prior negative experiences with father figures and abuse. Thank you so much :)"
> 
> I am so sorry that this one took so long, I've been super busy this past week. I just moved and the unpacking has been wild.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: physical abuse

Amy rolled her eyes as she watched Jake chug another beverage of jarringly artificial color. "Are you sure you don't have 100 cavities?" 

"Yes, I am, because guess what. As a surprise for you, I visited a dentist for the first time last week and she said my teeth were perfect." 

The Sarge raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I didn't have that many cavities at all, only 13½." 

Amy's jaw dropped and she went pale. Rosa grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her down at her desk. 

"It's no big deal, she said I just have to schedule a follow-up to make sure they stay gone... or to fix them. I wasn't really paying attention."

Holt shook his head in disbelief as Jake's phone rang. 

"See? It's probably my dentist calling to schedule that appointment so she can admire my beautiful mouth." He shot out a pair of thumbs-up before answering the phone. 

The background noise of the busy precinct continued as the squad went back to work, until Jake went silent. 

Boyle approached him once he'd hung up. "Jakey, is everything okay?"

"Fuck." Jake put his head in his hands, his leg bouncing rapidly underneath him. 

In a flash, the color returned to Amy's face. She practically raced over to his desk.

"Jake, what's wrong?"

"My dad," he started. He didn't need to say anything more. Rosa's hand was already balled into a fist, scowling as she went over the mental list of the locations where she kept her weapons. Amy was subconsciously curling her body protectively around Jake's chair. Holt's eyes were darkened by a rage that was usually reserved for Wuntch. Gina had put down her phone and was muttering something under her breath that did not seem very PG. Terry swore aloud as he accidentally crushed his computer mouse in his hand. Charles shook like a leaf, wearing a facial expression that could easily be read as angry, terrified, or constipated. 

"It's my dad," he repeated. 

"You mean the one that..." Terry trailed off, painful images of Jake from the last incident years ago flooding his memory. 

"No," Rosa scoffed, "Jake's other straight dad who wasn't an asshole." 

Jake frowned, "Guys, he's my dad. We shouldn't talk about him like that."

"Why not? It's true," Rosa spat. 

"I owe it to him to-"

"No. You don't owe him shit, not after what he's done to you."

Holt chimed in, "Diaz is right. The most recent occurrence with your father was... difficult. I do not wish to have to use another first aid kit on your account."

Jake shuddered. "He says he needs to crash at my place."

"Did you say yes?" Rosa asked. 

He shrugged. "He wasn't really asking."

Now in full interrogation mode, Detective Diaz kept pushing. 

"When did he say he's coming?"

"He didn't. I have no idea when he'll show up." Hearing his own words, he began to pick anxiously at his cuticles. 

Amy noticed, and tried to calm his nerves. "No big deal, you can just stay at mine until he's gone. Your stuff is already there so you can come straight from work."

Jake shook his head, "You have no idea what he'll do to me if I'm not there when he comes."

"Okay, then I'll stay with you."

"No, I don't want you in the line of fire."

"Jake-"

"Trust me, you don't want to be there. I can handle him, I've done it before." He tried to sound light-hearted, as though it was only a minor inconvenience to have his dad around, but it fell flat. 

Amy sighed, "The second you need us, please, call."

* * *

Roger didn't show up that day, or the next one. There was a distinct lack of fieldwork available, so Jake pretty much just had to sit at his desk and wait. 

He was trying not to make a big deal out of it, just like he'd done the last time, but the squad knew better now. Not to mention, it wasn't hard to tell that Jake was more worried about it than he let on. It became blatantly obvious when the Sergeant approached him about a case. 

From behind, he put a hand on Jake's shoulder and said, "Hey," in a deep voice (not deeper than his usual voice, in fact, he'd really done nothing out of the ordinary). 

Jake whipped around in his chair, somehow achieving a paler shade than his already pasty complexion. 

"Shit, did you go to my apartment already?" he choked out through gasping breaths. 

"Oh fuck, Sarge." He slumped over in his chair. 

"Damn, Jake. Are you good?"

Not waiting for him to answer, Amy stood up from the other side of the desk, "That's it, I am staying with you at your apartment, and you can't say no because you gave me a key."

Jake nodded, still shaking.

She wrapped her arms around him, "It's gonna be okay."

Holt stepped out from the doorway to his office where he'd been watching what happened. 

"Peralta, I am requesting that you take it easy today, and, should you need it, call me and I'll have the squad at your doorstep as quickly as it is possible to do. 

"Thank you, sir."

Holt gave a short nod, "Remember: we have your back."

* * * 

He arrived that evening. Amy was trying to distract Jake with Die Hard when they heard the pounding on the door. 

Jake ran to answer it. The second he unlocked it, the door was roughly shoved into his face as Roger strode into the room. 

"Who's this? You didn't tell me anyone was going to be here," he snapped. 

"Dad, it's Amy." Roger stared blankly at him. "My girlfriend? You've met her before."

"When's she leaving?"

"Dad!" Jake hissed. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Amy said calmly, though an angry spark lit a fire in her eyes. 

"Where is she going to sleep?"

"In the bed, with Jake," she answered. 

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure Jake knows that when I'm here, I take the bed," he retorted, glaring a hole into his son.

"He has back problems," Jake mumbled unconvincingly. 

"Amy, I think you should go back to your own apartment." 

"I think I need to stay-"

"Amy," Jake interrupted, "please." His eyes met hers and he silently begged her not to argue. She left without another word.

The second she reached the hallway, she pulled out her phone and dialed Holt. It didn't even have a chance to ring before he picked up.

"This is Raymond Holt, I _can_ come to the phone right now."

She barely let him finish before blurting out, "It's Jake."

"Say no more. We will arrive shortly."

* * *

"You thought you could pull one over on me, huh?" Jake's dad paced slowly around his living room, glowering at him all the while. 

"No, she wanted to stay over. I-"

"Can it!" Roger roared. He started towards Jake. 

Before he could stop himself, Jake's reflexes kicked in. He shoved his father away from him, sending him backwards and almost entirely knocking him over. 

Jake froze. "Shit, Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" 

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Suddenly, he was on the ground and there was no air to be found. An overwhelming sensation of nausea passed over him. He curled into himself, preparing for another blow. 

It was at this precise moment that the squad burst through the door. Holt was first through the door. 

"NYPD! Freeze."

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. Jake's dad disappeared and somebody was on the ground next to him and his face was really wet. Gentle hands made their way around his shoulders and he felt himself relax involuntarily into the arms of a warm person. The familiar smell of lotion and lavender flooded his nostrils and he recognized the person in front of him as Amy Santiago. 

He heard the sound of a deep, gravelly voice coming from his right side, asking if he had any injuries. He identified its owner as Captain Holt. 

The room fell silent. Jake wasn't sure if he could speak, but shakily, he mustered a "No, sir."

From his other side, a more frantic, high-pitched voice made itself known, "Did he hurt you, Jakey? Because I'll kill him. I still have that alibi about the French toast, nobody would ever know." 

"No, Charles. He punched me in the stomach but it just knocked the wind out of me more than anything else." 

Slowly, he moved to stand up. Terry extended a hand towards him and he took it gratefully. Gina was standing right behind him. 

"It doesn't make sense. How could someone that's best friends with _me_ have such a steaming pile of shit for a dad?" She pulled him in for a hug, something Gina Linetti did not do very often. 

"Rosa?" she whined, stretching out the name, "How much does it cost to hire you to kill someone?"

Rosa's face was stone cold, "If it's Roger, I'll do it for free." 

Terry cut them off, "Jake, you good, man?" 

He didn't answer, only slumped against him and let the Sarge give him a hug. 

"I swear, he will never hurt you again." Jake didn't have the energy to ask what they'd done with his dad, but he believed Terry whole-heartedly. 

"If you need some time off, feel free to take it," said the captain, "Would you like us to leave you alone?"

The whole squad turned to leave. 

Jake's voice came out barely a whisper. "You don't have to, you know, if you don't want to," he stammered. Without hesitation, they all turned back around.

"Alright, let's order some food. I'm ravenous!" Charles said shrilly. 

They agreed on pizza, stopped Boyle from ordering anything weird, and then took seats on the couch and pulled up chairs as Amy grabbed the remote and restarted Die Hard. 

Jake wasn't okay yet, a part of him was terrified he never would be. But whatever happened next, he spent the rest of the night with the knowledge clear in his head that he would never have to go through it alone ever again. 


	9. IMPORTANT NOTICE

_Hello everyone, it's try_again_love._

_First of all, thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic and my other ones, and thank you for all of the kudos and comments. It feels really good to know that y'all are enjoying what I'm writing. Also, thank you to everyone who's put in requests on this fic, because I really, genuinely enjoy writing them and y'all have great ideas. I've had a great experience with all my readers ever since I got on this site and it makes me very happy that I can give some serotonin to some folks._

_Second- this is the rough part- I'm going to stop taking requests... for now. I'm not going on a full hiatus, but I have a lot of requests right now, and things are picking up speed in my life. I have some writing assignments coming up that I don't look forward to as much as I do my fics, but they are, unfortunately, not optional. I also know that with school starting in the nearish future, things are only going to get faster from here on out._

_Am I going to start taking requests again?_

_\- Yes. If all goes to plan, then I will start taking requests again as soon as I get my shit together._

_When will that be?_

_\- Honestly, I have no idea. Definitely sometime after the start of school, once I have the hang of things. So like, November? Maybe? But don't hold me to that, because I can't predict the future and it depends on how life decides to happen._

_Am I going to write other projects during my pause from this one?_

_\- Yes. I will write other stuff on my own timeline, and post it when it's ready._

_If you already requested something that hasn't been written yet, what should you expect?_

_\- Don't worry! If you requested anything before July 16th, 2020 11:59 PM EST, I am going to continue working on the requests in my inbox. I just won't be taking any new requests at least until I can finish the ones I already have (there are quite a few)._

_Basically, this thing took off a lot faster than I thought it would, and it caught me off guard a little bit, so I need some time to catch up._

_Thanks to all of you for your patience and understanding :)_

_Sincerely,_

_\- try_again_love_

**UPDATE: This note is no longer applicable. As of October 5th, 3:10 PM EST, ya boi hath reopened the fic.**


	10. Rose-Colored Glasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From keepholtingon: Could you please write a one-shot fluff of Rosa and Amy living together and it's really cute and romantic at the end? Maybe a little bit of angst and Amy reassures Rosa that it's going to be okay and she can open up to someone without consequence. (Maybe Rosa was hurt in the past, which is why she is so closed off?)
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to write this, I got distracted with a) Rosa's Wikipedia page b) googling jewelry things and c) yoga mat colors????
> 
> Also, it's a pain in the ass the write a scene with two characters who use the same pronouns lmao. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Past Rape/Non-Con

Amy awoke bright and early to discover that, for the first time in a while, Rosa was already up. She stepped out of the bedroom and into the main room of their shared apartment, where Rosa was sitting on the couch, staring at the black television screen. 

"Good morning, Rosie," she said, voice soft and gentle. 

On most days, something known only to Santiago herself, Rosa would respond with an equally affectionate greeting. 

Today was not most days. "Oh, you're awake."

Her brow twitched downwards, "Babe, what are you doing?"

"Watching TV," Rosa muttered, gaze still focused on the empty screen. 

Amy pursed her lips. "That's a terrible lie, Rosie. The TV isn't even on."

"Have I told you I hate it when you call me that?" she snapped, ignoring the rest of her comment. 

"Not in that tone. What's wrong? How can I help you?"

Rosa insisted it was nothing. 

Amy knew that was bullshit. 

"Fine, if you won't tell me, I'll bring out the binder."

This earned her a questioning glance, meaning that Rosa had finally looked away from the TV. 

Not bothering to answer the unspoken question, Amy disappeared back into the bedroom for a moment before returning with a thick salmon-colored binder. Written on the cover in silver, flowery letters were the words: "Cheering Up Rosa."

"I told you, I'm fine. Why do you even have that?"

Amy rolled her eyes, "Because I'm an awesome girlfriend, that's why."

She flipped back and forth in the binder, muttering to herself and taking notes. Continuing to do this, she walked across the room and opened a closet, rummaging around in it for a moment before pulling out two yoga mats, one a sleek grey (Amy's), and the other a golden floral pattern (Rosa's). 

"Get changed."

Rosa shot her a sideways glance, but Amy returned it with a glint in her eye that her girlfriend recognized. Even Rosa knew better than to argue with Amy when her mind was set on something.

Five minutes later, Rosa was dressed in a wine-red sports bra and black leggings, hair tied back in a bun. Amy donned a similar outfit, except that her color of choice was a periwinkle blue. 

The next thing she knew, Rosa was guiding her through a yoga routine complete with mood music. She couldn't help but notice how smoothly her girlfriend moved from pose to pose and how graceful her figure was in each one. It wasn't hard for Amy to picture how she must've danced at the American Ballet Academy. She was slender and light on her feet, but also seriously shredded. Amy wondered how she ended up with the most beautiful being alive. 

She was lifted from her thoughts by a gentle but firm pair of hands on her back. 

"More like this." She let herself be shifted into a different position, feeling the warmth of the stretch washing over her. 

At the end, Rosa led Amy into a pose called Shavasana. They lay flat on their respective mats together, eyes closed. Quietly, Amy sat up and opened her eyes, watching Rosa's chest rise and fall peacefully. Clearly, her binder was good for something. 

Abruptly, Rosa opened her eyes and sat up. 

"Thanks, I'm feeling a lot more centered now," she said quickly. 

Amy grabbed her arm, pulling her back down. 

She shook her head and stood up, walking across the room to grab the binder. Consulting it for a few minutes, she stopped at a page and a smile grew wide across her face. 

"We're going shopping."

Rosa glared at her, "I hate shopping."

Amy cackled smugly, "Not if it's for supplies for your handmade jewelry line."

She lit up for a split second before she returned to her usual stoic self. 

Rosa drove their shared Corolla to her favorite store, Amy in the passenger seat. Not 20 minutes later, the pair were in a brightly lit room filled with beads, wires, and gems galore. Amy made sure to ask relentless questions. It was a secret kept closely between the two of them that Rosa loved to teach Amy things almost as much as Amy loved to learn. 

She pulled her spare binder from her bag- she always had one- and began to take notes. She would go through it later and reorganize it, but for now, she was caught up in the exhilaration of starting a new subject in a fresh, empty binder. She almost let herself get distracted by the way her girlfriend's eyes sparkled with jubilance. It was diluted by Rosa's natural impassivity, but Amy suspected that the emotion itself was not. 

Rosa was almost better by the time they got home, but it didn't last. Amy tried everything: Nancy Myers movies, going to a rage room, baking, board games, telling embarrassing stories for Rosa to laugh at, but none of it was working. 

She glanced at the binder one last time, already knowing what it said. 

"That it's. Rosie, what's going on?" She watched the gears grind in Rosa's head. 

After what felt like forever, Rosa sighed. "My piece-of-shit ex texted me."

Amy quirked an eyebrow. "Oh. I was expecting more of a fight," she paused, "You usually don't care about your exes, what's different about this one?"

Then, something absolutely and utterly absurd happened. Rosa Diaz burst into tears. 

"Oh my God, Rosie!" She wrapped an arm around her. "Please, babe, talk to me."

"She was my first."

She nodded reassuringly, inviting her to continue. 

"I, um, I didn't want to." 

Amy's face dropped. 

"It happened a bunch of times. I thought it was fine because she was my girlfriend." She broke down, slumping into Amy's arms. Amy stayed silent, unsure of what on earth she could possibly say. Instead, she rubbed circles into Rosa's back and held her as she cried. 

"When I tried to talk to her, she said she would teach me to enjoy it," she spat, "Then she," Rosa trailed off. 

"She videoed her, us... and sent it around the school, " she choked out. Amy clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. 

Rosa pressed on. "She sent me the videos last night. She texts me once in a while, just to mess with me."

Out of the blue, she brushed Amy off. "I know it's stupid, and I should be over high school shit by now-"

"No. It's not stupid. I am so sorry that happened to you, and," she hesitated, realizing something, "It must've been so hard for you to get close to other people, and to date other girls, to date me. I am so lucky to have you, and I am so proud of you for telling me. Also, I hope it goes without saying, but just to be sure, I want you to know that I will never, _ever_ do that to you. I will always have your back. I-," she stopped. 

"I love you, Rosie." 

For a minute, no one said anything.

"Fuck, this was a terrible time to spring that on you, I know it must be so difficult for you to trust me and I don't expect you to-"

Rosa pressed a finger to Amy's lips, stopping her midsentence. "You've been perfect. Today has been great. Thank you."

A small smile graced her lips as she whispered, "I love you too, Ames."

They didn't speak another word- they didn't have to- as they lay in each other's arms on the couch until they drifted together into a peaceful sleep. 


	11. so far down, I wonder if I'll ever feel you again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From SmortAndy01: What if instead of captain holt, Amy had acquired the information about the pigs from Seamus Murphy
> 
> Also, I have fewer requests left than I thought I did. Once I finish them all, which will be soon-ish, I will either start taking requests again or I will work on a different project- I have several fun and angsty ones in mind- and then start this one up again. Point is, it will probably happen much sooner than my original estimate of November-ish. :)
> 
> Just a heads up, this one got very dark, TRIGGER WARNING: panic attacks, prison-related flashbacks, and nothing particularly graphic just very, vErY heavy angst and low-key emotional torture.

"Seamus," Amy sighed. 

"Amy," he nodded curtly. "So apparently, NYPD police came today to arrest my nephew Kyle for unpaid parking violations," he said, a vague tone of incredulity in his voice. 

"Hmm, would you like me to," she paused, "clear his record?"

"No, I know it's a cover. I know he's in protective custody because he helped you stop my armored car play."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," she replied, absolutely inscrutable.

"No?" Seamus murmured, closer to her face than she might've liked. 

She kept her brave face on. "I gave you your permit, I don't owe you anything else."

He glowered at her, "You're right, you don't owe me anything. But I owe you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" A flash of fear glanced across her eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

He stood up to leave.

"It means you mess with my family, I mess with yours. You tell your husband Jake, I'll see him real soon."

He turned around and took a few steps away before turning back.

"You know, it's a real shame about that whole situation. Didn't he _just_ get out of prison?"

The last Amy saw of him was a smirk, barely perceptible, that nearly set something manic off inside of her. Flashing through her head were the nights in the past couple of weeks, the ones where she'd been awoken by the sound of heavy breathing, occasionally accompanied by a blood-curdling scream. She remembered the sweat dripping down his back and she held him, the whispered promises that from here on out, he would be safe. 

She was left in the diner, frozen in time, absolutely and utterly lost. 

* * *

Jake Peralta paced the briefing room at lightning speed, yelling a swear word approximately every 3 steps. 

"Fuck! Wait, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, this doesn't mean I have to go back to WITSEC, does it?"

Amy answered quickly, "Oh God, no. Murphy's killed 3 witnesses under federal protection, there's no way I'm taking that risk."

She paused for a moment, brows furrowed and teeth grinding, before crying out, "This can't be happening!"

"It's my fault. You bailed me out," Jake scowled, pulling at his hair. 

Rosa piped up, "No way, man. First off, she bailed us both out. Second, how is it your fault you were wrongly convicted and sent to prison for a crime you didn't commit?"

"It never would've happened in the first place if I hadn't shoved my nose in somebody else's business. The rest of you wouldn't have known about it then, and the Murphy crime family never would have gotten involved in this shitshow to begin with!" he shouted, growing increasingly desperate. 

Captain Holt approached him, gently removing his hands from his scalp and placing a hand on his back. "Diaz is right. You only did your job. Lieutenant Hawkins and Seamus Murphy, as well as any who are currently working in their assistance, are the only people at fault here."

"What are we going to do? I'm going to die. Rosa, how did you get over your prison trauma so fast?" he sputtered. 

"Easy. Went to therapy and actually addressed it instead of repressing the shit out of it."

"Cool, cool, cool cool cool coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool, no doubt, no doubt."

Holt cleared his throat, stopping Jake in his tracks. "I suggest we put you in a safe house where a member of the squad can watch over you at all times."

Amy practically jumped up. "I'll do it! I'm his wife, and I'm the one that took the information from Seamus Murphy, so it makes sense."

"Then we agree. Go, now," Holt replied. 

* * *

Jake bit his lip as he watched Amy cautiously make her way to the door. They were expecting a visit from Captain Holt, but it seemed he'd arrived early. He wished he could match his wife's air of confidence as she asked for the password through the mail slot. 

Within seconds, the sound of wood breaking flooded as ears as the door flew off its hinges. Amy shrieked, but it was drowned out by the deafening volume of several different voices and gunshots. It all passed by in a blur, he couldn't really see any faces, and then there were more loud sounds and a glass shattering- in the middle of it all, standing strikingly still, was Captain Holt. 

Why was he just standing there? _Oh shit._

"The hyperrealistic latex mask," he heard himself whisper aloud. 

"Jake?" An unharmed Amy Santiago said as she stepped away from a perfectly intact door. 

"Jake, Captain Holt is here."

He blinked a few times before looking around to room to see no criminals and no glass shards. 

"Detective Peralta," said a deep, gravelly voice. 

He let his shoulders drop as he plastered on a smile, "Oh hey, Cap'n. I guess I spaced out there for a second, sorry."

Amy shot him a look before requesting that he leave the room for a moment.

"I just don't want to stress you out too much," she'd explained. He acquiesced, not unaware of the way her worried eyes followed him until he was out of sight. 

Jake, being both incredibly stubborn and curious, picked the closest room to Amy and Holt and pressed his ear against the wall adjacent to them. Sure he could handle it, he strained his ears. 

"I do not know how long you'll be here. The Murphy Family is watching this area very closely, and I'm certain they are in active pursuit of Peralta. I won't return here unless there is an emergency or Seamus has been apprehended. Be exceptionally careful. Do not use your portable phones, do _not_ connect to the internet. Never open the door without asking for the password. Keep out of sight zones when the blinds are open, crawl on your belly if you must. Do not leave the house for any reason. Try not to exceed 80 decibels." 

He heard footsteps as Holt started to the door, but they stopped abruptly. 

"Remember, Santiago, these are experienced criminals. All they need to locate you is a partial face sighting, even if it is only momentary."

"I understand, sir, goodbye." 

The doorbell turned and Jake was barely able to catch a few final words, "Santiago, I hope you know that you both will be sorely missed." 

The door clicked shut and Holt was gone. Jake collapsed on the floor, unable to shake the phantom sensations of big, rough hands grabbing at his wrists and the ache in his throat as he tried in vain to scream through a dirty piece of cloth. 

"Babe, you can come back now," Amy called. Had he not been looking for it, he would have missed the tremor in her voice. Again, he forced a fake grin into place as he walked stiffly back to the living room. 

* * *

Jake hit the rewind button, stopping the credits in their tracks as the movie ran all the way back to the beginning. 

"Seriously? You want to watch Die Hard again?" Amy shook her head, reaching out to take the remote from him. 

His grip tightened. "Please?" he whispered. She stared at him for a moment before softening, placing the hand that had been aiming for the remote on his thigh. 

Wordlessly, Jake clicked play, even though it was obvious neither he nor Amy was actually watching the movie. Three minutes in, he stopped it.

"If Rosa were here, she would've killed me by now," he said, eyes shiny. 

Amy scooched closer to him, wrapping him in a hug as the moisture in his eyes gathered until it was too much. She opened her mouth, but he stopped her. 

"Ames, what if we're in here for a year? What if they never catch Murphy? What if I don't," he gulped, "What if I never see them again?"

She tried to reassure him, but her attempts were futile. Suddenly, he shot upright and banged his leg into the coffee table. Barely noticing the web of pain spreading across his knee, he started to walk away only to turn back. 

"There's nowhere to go," he whispered, "I can't do this."

"I can't do this," he repeated, getting louder with every word, "I can't stay in this tiny house with its tiny rooms. I'm _stuck_. There's no space, I have to leave, I'm trapped here and we're never leaving."

Again, Amy started to speak but was interrupted.

"It feels like prison. I'm in prison again," he said. His arms shook and he couldn't stop the flow of tears down his face. He stifled a sound, trying to heed Holt's warning. Other than the trembling, he stood dead still, unable to move.

Amy just about sprinted over to him, enclosing him in a protective hug. In return, he placed his still-shaking arms around her. Gently, she wiped a tear from his cheek and kissed another away. She led him back to the couch and sat him down as she rubbed circles into his back and whispered reassurances in his ear. Ultimately, it was the worry in her eyes that made him calm down. He'd seen too much of it today. He had to do this for her. He took deep breaths, each one longer than the last, until he felt human again.

Later that night, he told her he was sorry, he didn't mean to worry her. He melted into her embrace as she insisted he had nothing to be sorry for, promising over and over again that he would never be a burden to her. 

The funny thing was: he loved her so much he decided that maybe, he believed her. 

* * *

It happened again, a few times, each one worse than the last. And always, without fail, it ended with him in her arms, shaking and crying. Every hour he spent in the safe house, he could feel a piece of himself being chipped away. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it wasn't true, he couldn't escape the looming thought that he was going to die here. He could feel his Amy growing increasingly worried about him, see the gears grinding in her head as she weighed her options. He caught her at one point, holding her phone (still powered off), and he knew she'd been thinking about contacting Holt against his orders. That was the moment he knew he was fucked. 

The next time it happened, he was somewhere else, somewhere grey, filled with orange jumpsuits. He was in a cell with a cannibal, surrounded by iron bars, and the room was getting smaller and smaller and he couldn't breathe. He screwed his eyes shut. Somewhere, distantly, he heard Amy calling for him, but he couldn't look for her. He couldn't take the risk of opening eyes only to find that she wasn't there. Instead, he backed away. A hand touched his arm, and he tried to move faster, but he tripped and fell backward. The sound of glass breaking filled his ears and panic shot through him, along with a stab of pain in his arm. Amy was yelling his name now, she was close.

Against every bone in his body, he looked. He was on the ground in a strange apartment ( _the safe house_ , he realized), and his beautiful girlfriend was crouched over right in front of him. At some point, he must have reached for her because his arms were on her shoulders, and there were a few shards of glass sticking out of his left forearm.

As his brain made the gradual descent back into rationality, his chest only heaved faster. Amy's eyes had grown wide, revealing fear and resignation. They were both painfully aware of what had happened. 

"They know where we are now," Jake wheezed, "They're coming." 

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe," but her hoarse voice and the silent tears streaming down her face said otherwise. 

"I heard you and Holt, I know." he confessed between gasping sobs, "They've been watching, they know. They're coming." He strangled a cry, catching it in his throat. 

For the next 7 minutes and 46 seconds, they held each other as tightly as they could, listening only to the sounds of choked breaths and soft crying. Jake's flashback from day one replayed, but this time, no voice shook him out of it. 

At 12 minutes and 58 seconds, Captain Holt discovered that something was terribly wrong. 

16 minutes and 09 seconds, Jake Peralta was in what appeared to be an interrogation room, alone. Amy Santiago was gone. He yelled for her until the walls closed in and his throat burned in agony, but no answer ever came, 

16 minutes and 09 seconds and Amy Santiago sat on the right side of a one-way glass, watching her fiancé scream his brains out, utterly powerless.

17 minutes and 02 seconds and Rosa Diaz parked a squad van containing several very angry individuals in a way that was very illegal. 16 seconds later, they were searching the building. 

18 minutes and 13 seconds, Amy Santiago was soaked in tears and shaking like a leaf, unable to watch and yet unable to look away. 

18 minutes and 13 seconds and Jake Peralta was barely conscious, collapsed over a table, sweating and exhausted. He opened his mouth and a soft voice crack came out. 

It was at 18 minutes and 59 seconds since the epiphany that Terry Jeffords broke down one door and Rosa Diaz broke down another. Jake Peralta was carried by the Sarge, awake but catatonic, to the squad van while Santiago walked herself, holding tightly to Diaz with one hand and to Charles Boyle with the other. Captain Raymond Holt was outside the van, eyes dark with rage as he handcuffed Seamus Murphy and handed him off to another officer. Gina Linetti was inside the van, not crying, but teary-eyed. 

Terry laid Jake across the back seat so that his head rested on Gina's lap. Amy sat down in the space in front of them, her shaky hands grasping Jake's as he came to. Diaz, Boyle, and Holt stood behind her, concerned eyes on the two detectives. 

Weakly, Jake reached upwards and grabbed the person nearest to him, which happened to be Terry. 

"You're safe," he whispered, his own arms gripping the detective as gently as he could manage. 

Suddenly sobbing aloud, Jake yelled, "I don't want to go back, I _can't_ go back to the safe house."

"Please," he added softly. 

Looking to Holt, who gave her a nod, Amy turned back to Jake, consoling him. "It's okay, babe, we're going home now."

On the drive back to the precinct, Holt drove and Terry sat in the front seat. Amy sat behind the Lieutenant, giving them a rundown of what happened in between shaky breaths while Rosa held her hand from the row behind. Jake sat in the middle seat, sandwiched between Boyle and Amy. Boyle kept trying to talk to Jake, but Gina shut him up from next to Rosa, and he finally drifted off into a restless sleep. 

Halfway through the drive, the van hit a pothole and Jake jolted awake, screaming. Swiftly, Holt pulled over. Somehow, Rosa had vaulted over the seat and was sitting in front of him, holding his hand like an anchor. 

He breathed out a sigh of relief, "I missed you guys so much." Everyone seemed to understand what he meant. 

For the first time in a long time, sobbing into the arms of about 3 more people than seemed spatially possible, knowing he was a long way from recovery, Jake Peralta finally started to feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all? This is why I take so goddamn long to write these things. No one-shot request should be this fucking long. Why am I like this?
> 
> Also, I sat and wrote this next to my cat and he likes to grab my hand while I write so I can't do anything.


	12. Shine (Tales of a Bisexual Icon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From whatthegeometry: "Jake coming out as bisexual/pansexual to the squad and Amy, before they're married but while they're dating? Friendship fluff and Peraltiago? That'd be really cool!"
> 
> I have been absolutely dying to write this one, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Get ready for some color symbolism, bitches.
> 
> Takes place between 5x10 Game Night and 5x22 Jake and Amy.
> 
> Also God I'm sorry I update so goddamn slow. I've been working on this essay for a really long time and it ate all my time, also my school just started doing real things. I know I'm doing the best that I can, but I still wish i could update more than I do. I think that will change now that the essay is done. And, no promises, but I might be able to start taking requests again soon? Maybe? I don't know.

"Psst. Rosa." She turns around, but can't seem to find anything. She figures it must be the wind. 

" _Psst._ _"_ She turns around one more time to see none other than Jake Peralta, frantically waving her into a supply closet. He shuts the door behind them. Rosa starts to see the color red. 

She sees it in the breath he takes to steady himself after stalling nervously for 5 minutes. 

"Rosa, I'm bi."

She sees it in the tremor in his voice, then again in the way he braces himself for her reaction, a glint of determination in his eyes, ready to withstand whatever she throws at him. 

She snorts. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

"Wait," he blinks slowly, "how did you know?"

Laughing, she replies, "Did you even hear what you said to me when I was coming out? Shit was way too real." He chuckles awkwardly as she starts to leave. It's then that she decides his courage is only the brightest shade of crimson. It stops her in her tracks. 

"Hey," she begins, "It was really... brave, for you to say that. It takes a lot." Without waiting to hear his reply, she leaves, trying to hide the rose in her own cheeks. 

Kevin has just dropped off Holt's lunch and is on his way out when he accidentally stumbles upon a supply closet with a certain detective victory dancing inside it. He sees flashes of orange flying from Jake's limbs as he jumps up and down.

"Peralta?"

Abruptly, he stops.

"Alright, I'll be on my way now," Kevin says.

"I'm bi," Jake blurts before he can leave. 

Kevin turns back to face him. "Oh?"

"I heard your parents weren't the best, you know, when you came out," he says, shifting awkwardly.

"Yes, they were convinced that Raymond converted me with his, quote-unquote, 'magic genitalia.'"

"What did you do?" His shoulders are tense and he's biting his lip. Kevin thinks he looks lost. 

"If I may, can I ask what happened?"

He listens as Jake talks, and he can feel the waves of bronze coming off of him. He almost finds himself admiring the detective's endless resilience. Jake has the strength and energy to continue taking his victory dances as they come, despite Karen and Roger's rejection. For a moment, he nearly wishes he was the variety of person that acted in such a way when faced with the hurt his own parents caused him. Kevin nearly wishes he was more like Jake. 

"You can go back and try again, whenever you're ready, but you don't have to. You don't owe them anything, just remember that."

Jake nods, shoulders beginning to drop slightly. He leans towards Kevin before aborting the action, but it doesn't go unnoticed. He wraps his arms protectively around Jake, taking in the ginger-tinted embers burning inside him before bidding him farewell, good luck, and reminding him that the Holt-Cozner door is always open. 

Through the crack in his blinds, Holt sees Jacob and his husband having some sort of sincere conversation- he doesn't see any of the gestures which normally signify a humorous statement. Then, as Kevin is leaving, Jake braces himself and starts walking. Holt watches the detective get closer and closer, trying to predict his destination. He's walking over to Charles' desk? No, he passed it. Maybe Rosa's? The copy r- oh. Jacob Peralta is approaching Holt's office. 

He greets his captain nervously, staring down and picking at his nails. Under normal circumstances, Holt would look down upon his lack of composure, but he suspects there is something more at play here. 

He is decidedly correct. 

"Anyways, I'm bisexual, and I'm gonna say that really fast and then leave because my dad rejected me and I'm scared you will too. Peace out!" 

Before Jake can exit the room, Holt stops him. 

"From what you've described to me, I do not believe that your father is a man worthy of your effort or attention."

At the sound of the words, Jake can't stop a tear from escaping his eye. It bleeds honey against his captain's shirt while they hug. Holt watches him leave, noticing that his detective looks a little lighter than he did before, a smile across his face and a joke on his lips, radiating vibrant yellow- _the color of all things joyful,_ Holt thinks. Once he's gone, Holt shuts the door and declares aloud to himself that daffodil is his favorite color. 

Terry watches Jake leave Holt's office. A part of him can't help but view the detective like a son. After all, the Sarge has watched this man grow so much over the years from a wisecracking, irresponsible slob into a wisecracking, somewhat responsible, slightly less disorganized person. But he's much more mature now, and he's confident, and so, so strong. Lost in the cloud of green, it takes him a moment to notice Jake beckoning him into the break room.

"What's up, Peralta?"

His eyes glow with all the life force of a jungle as the words come tumbling out. Terry has treasured the conversations they have every once in a while where something bad happens and Jake gets real. But this one is different. He didn't have to drag it out of him, in fact, Jake was the one to approach him. 

Mentally, he watches his detective press off the ground and firmly plant his foot onto the next moss-covered step.

"I'm _so_ proud of you."

Boyle scrambles into the break room, nearly crashing into Terry. He searches blindly for an anchor. At last, his hands grab at a sleeve and he's wrapped in a blanket of cerulean. 

"Jakey, I don't know what to do."

His anchor makes a gesture and the Sarge is gone. Then, he's being led somewhere and before he knows it, he's outside staring up at the sky. 

"Okay Boyle, tell me what happened."

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the ocean salt coming off of his best friend. 

"Nikolaj wanted me to cook breakfast for him this morning, but I had to go to work. I know it's not really important, but I felt like I was abandoning him and I wish I could be there for him more."

Still steadying him, Jake tells him it's okay, that he's doing his best and that Nikolaj will understand. The words wash over him until finally, there are no more waves in the sea. 

Jake speaks up once he's sure Charles is calm. "Also, Boyle, I wanted to tell you. I'm bisexual."

Charles nods, already planning 67 different surprise coming out party options in his head. 

_**From Jakester:** come outside, need 2 tell u something_

Gina passes Charles on her way out to the balcony, pretending she doesn't know the man referring to her as his sister and former lover.

On the contrary, she gives Jake all of her attention. She's learned the hard way that whenever he wants to talk in private, it's actual shit. He stands tall and firm in a way that makes her picture a plum cape flowing in the wind. 

He makes eye contact and his words come out booming and royal purple.

Gina repeats a though she's had many times before. 

_This man is a king._

Amy runs after her boyfriend, who's bolting through the bullpen and into the evidence lockup. By the time she gets there, tears are streaming down his face and both of their hearts are bursting with a shade of magenta. 

"Jake, what's wrong?"

Exploding fuchsia, he whispers, "I can't tell you. I can't lose you."

It takes him several minutes to work up the nerve to tell her. When he does, she stands perfectly still, speechless. 

Even as he feels his heart sink to his stomach, his voice is the color of blush.

"It's okay. You're allowed to feel weird about it. I get it."

Confused, she stares at him, "Wait, what? No, I just can't believe you had to put yourself through that much stress just to tell me something like that. You shouldn't have to be afraid."

She's barely finished before he throws her arms around her and it's as if there's a sphere of bubblegum underneath them, lifting them above. 

"Wait a minute. Jake Peralta, look me in the eye and tell me you thought I was a homophobe."

He chuckles. "Yeah, I know, it was dumb." 

She wishes he was right. "No, I understand why you were scared, but I wish you weren't."

His entire body glows pink as he says it. 

"I love you."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any Schitt's Creek fans out there, Amy pulled a Marcy/Clint Brewer :)


	13. Cut Me Farther

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From TheLorax: "Hello, I was wondering if you do X reader stuff? If you do, maybe the reader has been kidnapped, Raped, and tortured and Rosa has to find her before it's too late? Maybe, (only if this is okay) when rosa finds her, they confess hidden feelings, and it ends on a fluffy note?"
> 
> Rosa is 1st person and Y/N is 2nd person
> 
> Assuming the reader is female because gay/bisexual vibes are good, hope that's okay
> 
> Title from Tear in My Heart by TØP.
> 
> Not proofread, please let me know if there are any typos. 
> 
> Also, this was the last request in my inbox! You know what that means, I'll be doing some other projects for a bit (I have SOOOOO many ideas, I don't even know where they came from), and then I'll come back to this. I'm going to be back in business very soon, so those of you that were telling me you were enjoying these, get hyped! I estimate another month or so, we'll see, and it will probably update pretty slow, but I'm going to do my best.

**TRIGGER WARNING: torture, knives, stabbing, starving, violence, rape**

You don't know where you are. You don't know how long you've been there. You don't even know if you've slept.

But you know it's cold. Fuck, it's freezing, and everything hurts. Your clothes cling to your body, and you can't tell which is worse: the wet fabric against you like a sheet of ice or the bitter wind touching your bare skin through the gaping holes in your shirt. You take a deep breath to try and clear your head, but it only reinvigorates the searing pain in your ribs, not to mention the added headache from the overwhelming stench of dried blood.

Footsteps and voices get louder as they approach from the hall. Dread sinks in your stomach. In your head, you run over the options for what they might do to you today, looking for something to hope for. Your best-case scenario still sounds like hell. You aren't listening anymore until you're brought out of your thoughts by a blow to the side of your head. 

"Hey, I said, 'do you want some fuckin' food?'" a man yells at you. You don't know his name, but you've come to recognize the sound of him, of all of them. You almost start groveling, but you're cut off by the voice of a second man. 

"If you want the food, you gotta tell me about Ms. Diaz. I need an address. You know it, don't you?"

You shake your head, but by now, everyone in the room knows it's a lie. 

"Is that your final answer?" comes a menacing whisper, too close to your face for your liking. You say nothing, but glare defiantly in the direction you think the whisper came from. The sharp pains in your stomach wail in protest. 

Suddenly, a cold case you never solved pops into your head, and then another, and then another. Images of captives who were never found flood your brain and you wonder if you'll ever make it out of here.

* * *

You're an hour late to work when I start to worry. I look for you in the break room first, but you're not there. I dash across to the briefing room, and I look into Holt's office. People are practically jumping out of my way. I glance into the copy room and you're not there either. In a desperate last attempt, I double-check your desk. As expected, it's empty. 

I speed back to the other side of the room, where the captain and Santiago are engaging in some kind of mentor/mentee banter and I grab his arm midsentence and drag him into his office. I close the blinds. He stares at me agape. 

"Captain, I'm- I'm, uh, I'm feeling," I shudder, "I'm really worried. [Y/N] isn't usually this late. Did she call in sick?"

He nods solemnly. "Alright, let's investigate."

"Really? You're not even going to ask if I called her?"

"No. If you are," he pauses, "experiencing emotions, then I'm certain you've already gone through every rational possibility." 

Suddenly, he stands up. "Where do we start?" 

We begin to mull over the possibilities when I get a phone call. It has no caller ID. Holt mouths that I should put it on speaker.

"Hey Diaz," says a gruff voice, distorted through the phone. I grimace. 

"Who are you?" 

"Matthew Langdon. Remember me?" My stomach drops. This guy worked with Hawkins. This is the guy that sent me to prison.

"What do you want?" I ask, ignoring the tears forming in my eyes. 

"I have a hostage. Her name is Detective [Y/N], you know her?" 

I don't answer. 

"Look, I don't want to hurt her, I want to hurt you."

I'm fighting to stay calm, "How do I even know she's alive?"

I'm met with the sounds of screaming. Your screaming. You yell for them to stop. From what I can hear, they don't. I don't even know what they're doing to you. I don't want to. 

"Leave her alone," I can't stop myself from saying it.

"Look, if you ever want to see your girlfriend again, come and meet me. Park Street. You have until tomorrow night."

"She's not my girlfriend, you don't know what you're doing. This isn't going to end well for you."

I swear I can almost hear him smirk. "So you wouldn't care if I killed her right now?" The screams in the background cease to nothing. 

"No, I- shit." I've completely lost all authority.

"Come to Park Street, or she pays the price." The screen goes dark. My phone clatters to the ground. 

* * *

Normally, after they refuse to feed you, they would leave you alone for a few hours. Today, they stay with you, and Langdon pulls out a phone. You listen in anticipation as he dials a number and lifts the phone up to his ears. 

When he says my name, your heart drops. The last thing you want is for me to get involved.

Then, he says, "I don't want to hurt her, I want to hurt you," and you start thrashing. Quickly, the others in the room jump to silence you. When you scream, it's on their terms, not yours. 

You're trying to come up with a way to convey a message to Rosa- and what you'd even want to say- when Langdon takes the phone away from his head and puts it on speaker. For a moment, calm fills your body at the thought of hearing her voice again. It's gone as quickly as it came. One of the men who had come to shut you up pulls a knife from inside his jacket. 

You wait for him to flip you over and reopen the cuts that line your back. Instead, he opts to make fresh ones. 

Moving your shirt out of the way, he reveals your bare stomach. 

You only half-succeed in muffling the shriek that comes out of you when the knife breaks your skin. He moves it slowly and it's agonizing. You think you can feel each fiber of your body snapping as it moves through you. 

"I hear you're good with words, young lady. Well, what does this spell?"

He makes a finishing cut on the first letter. 

"F," he drawls cruelly.

You feel him twist the knife. 

"U," he says next. 

Another twist. 

"C"

He digs in. 

"K"

He makes a few final slashes. 

"Me."

You barely register Langdon hanging up the phone until he's standing two feet away from you, admiring his accomplice's work. 

Just before he rips off what's left of your clothes, he says to you, "I'm just following directions. After all, they're carved into your skin."

* * *

It takes all my will power not to punch a wall as I think about our 3rd dead-end lead of the day. What I want more than anything is someone to be here with me so that I don't have to do this alone. Even more than that, I want it to be you. Instead, I'm alone in my apartment, lying awake in my pitch dark bedroom at 1:30 in the morning. I'm sleeping like a baby. Yeah, because stupid babies stay awake all night and scream. 

By 2:30, I've given up. I'm back at the precinct, and I find that Holt is too. We'd scouted the location that Langdon gave us on the phone the day before, but you're being held somewhere else. It's almost 4 by the time our sleep-deprived brains figure out that for an experienced criminal, dude's cellphone is shockingly easy to track. 

* * *

 _Drink up, bitch._

The words play over and over again as you convulse and scream on the floor. You try to determine the floor from the ceiling, but everything is spinning. As bile rises in your throat, you attempt to lean away from yourself, but the stabbing pain in your head forces you in the direction you think is down. 

You feel your throat close as you retch violently and suddenly there's something sticky all over you. In between bouts of nausea, you find yourself yelling for me. 

You beg me to come. You beg them to stop. You beg them to kill you. You aren't in control. 

In the background, you hear someone crying. For a minute, you think I'm there with you, but then you hear a phone click shut and I'm gone. 

* * *

Holt can do nothing but follow me and hope I don't kill someone. I kick down every door harder than I need to, hoping that watching the wood splinter will keep me from doing the same to Langdon's bones. My gun is drawn and my finger is on the trigger. I can't wait to shoot that bastard. 

As soon as I find you, every urge to do something illegal is gone. You're laying on the floor, covered in vomit. The clothes on your body can hardly be called that anymore. They're blood-stained and riddled with holes. I can clearly see the words written on you in blood. You're unnervingly still. I jump to the worst conclusion, but I find your pulse. It's a little weak, but it's there, and it's still rhythmic. 

Then open your eyes and look at me. You start to tremble. 

"Are you real?'

I want to explode. I want to scream and shout and hold you tightly in my arms. Instead, I bite my lip and nod. 

By the time I remember to deal with the criminals, the only person left in the room is Holt. 

"I took care of Langdon." My first response is shame. But as if Holt can read my mind, he tells me not to worry about it. I was right to make you my first priority. Truth is I don't think I had a choice. 

Gently, we wrap you in a shock blanket and take you to the precinct. I have only one thought in my head. 

I will make you okay if it's the last thing I do. 

* * *

You let yourself get lost in the feeling of human contact. You can't help but relax at the first touch you've felt in days that wasn't meant to hurt you. Your body is broken and your brain is fried, but someone is here. I'm here, and my hands are on you with no intent but love.

When you come to, you flinch away from me. You're in the precinct shower, and I'm here. Why am I here?

With more strength then I intend to, I grab your arm and pull you back into me. You're scared at first, but once you hear my voice, you melt against me. 

"Hey, [Y/N], you're safe. When I found you, there were all kinds of weird shit on you, so I'm washing it off. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry."

You nod into my chest, and I go back to what I was doing. Your arms around my waist interrupt me. 

I run a hand through your hair. It's the best thing you've felt in a long time. 

"[Y/N], are you okay?" 

For the first time in far too long, I hear your voice. 

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just zoned out." 

My chest loosens with relief.

"Hey, Diaz?"

You look up at me. 

"I love you."

I'm not sure how to respond. I'm not even sure what you mean. Then, I understand. 

"I love you too." 

We lapse into silence. 

We both know that this is going to be complicated. 

I want more than anything to kiss you, but for your sake, I'll wait. 

I'll wait for you as long as you need me too. 


	14. BACK IN BUSINESS

Hey y'all, this one's gonna be short.

I've started to get requests from people again, even though I haven't reopened yet. That's fine, those of you who have done so will have to wait until I reopen for your requests to be written, but the vibe that I'm getting is that y'all want me to come back.

As some of you may know, I'm writing a story called Indefinitely Broken (go check it out, I just posted chapter 4/11). The plan originally was to finish that, maybe do some other stuff, and then return to this request book. I am changing that plan a little bit.

I am still going to finish Indefinitely Broken, but I'm also going to reopen this fic. It's going to be a little bit different, requests might come out a bit slower due to school and the fact that I'm working on multiple projects at once. 

But, consider it official, I am back in business! 

Also, I'm going to add a waiting list in chapter 1 so y'all know how many people are ahead of you.

Thank you all for your love and support.

-try_again_love


	15. The Scars We Don't See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe how excited I am to be reopening this! I've been dying to do it for a while :)
> 
> From Anonymous: "Can you write a fan fic where jake returns from an undercover mission ...he is now a bit serious..has become tough... He has scars from his injuries on the undercover op...amy is worried about the fact he's changed. Ps i really want to read about amy reaction to when jake walks in the precinct after he returns from the mission"
> 
> Takes place between 3x13 The Cruise and 3x22 Bureau.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: nightmares, emotional trauma, vomiting (not graphic), a little bit of blood (no more than in canon), scars

Amy sat at her desk, her body filling with the energy of the bullpen's silent anticipation. All eyes were on the elevator, waiting for the telltale ding that came before the doors slid open. 

Then, it happened. The 99th Precinct's very own Detective Jake Peralta stepped into a room he hadn't seen for 3 months, but they were still waiting. They waited for a joke, for a yell of excitement, even a jab at the captain, but it never came.

What took its place was the word 'hello.' It sounded so simple, and if you didn't know him, it almost could've been. But his voice came out booming and deep- Amy thought the word should have belonged to Holt or the Sarge. Except it didn't. It belonged to Jake Peralta, a new Jake Peralta, one who wore a slight scowl at all times, one who had a nine-inch scar running down his neck. Head spinning, she wondered where he'd gotten it, and how, but she found herself fixating on who had given it to him, who had hurt him. 

Even Charles seemed a little bit disturbed by the man standing in front of him, his voice coming out just a bit smaller than it had before. "Hey, Jakey! We missed you so much." The rest of the squad followed in a chorus of their own greetings.

His frown grew a little bit deeper as he answered, "Yeah, I missed you too." 

Amy's smile grew a little bit less. 

Still, she told him she loved him and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed her back, but he was only going through the motions. Amy could feel it, so she pulled away.

Once everyone returned to their work, she led him outside onto the balcony. 

"What's up, Amy?"

Her eyebrow twitched in surprise as she recoiled at the sound of her name. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but she and Jake both knew that her nickname should've been there instead. In that particular moment, it was right, but he'd said her full first name. Why?

He looked away, clearly feeling it too. 

"Are you okay? You're acting strange."

He shrugged, "I'm fine."

He turned to leave, but Amy's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Babe, are you sure?" she said slowly, pleading with him.

He refused her, eyes dark as he said, "Yeah."

Before she could argue, he strode back into the precinct. She watched him go, staring at the door for just a minute too long after his departure. 

* * *

Jake and Amy sat across from each other at her apartment- she'd insisted on him staying for a few days, he hadn't argued- a plate of hot wings, Jake's favorite, in front of both of them. 

He stared down at them, picking at the skin and occasionally taking a small bite. Amy could tell something was wrong, but the most she could get out of him when she asked was that he was 'fine' in that new, deep tone of his that was so obviously not fine. 

She couldn't stop herself from looking at the scar. It was thick, and the pinkish-red color hadn't fully faded from it, but the scab was gone. She guessed he'd gotten it at least a month ago. It started at the midpoint between his chin and the right corner of his jaw and ran all the way down to just below the neckline of his shirt. She could see the end of it when he moved a certain way and his collar shifted. 

They were half an hour into the meal and Jake still had barely touched his food when the color drained from his face. 

"Jake?" Amy tried to get his attention as panic slowly seeped into her voice. He remained silent, still staring at the chicken wings. Her worry only multiplied with each passing second, reaching its peak at the same moment she noticed the shiny bead of sweat coalescing on his forehead. 

"Jake, please answer me." 

She still didn't get a response, but this time he stood up and ran suddenly to the bathroom, collapsing over the toilet before losing what little he'd eaten. 

It was that moment, watching him turn back to her, breaths heaving and eyes wide, looking weaker than he'd allowed himself to since his return, that solidified in her head that Jake Peralta needed help.

His voice, on the other hand, was still steely and cold. 

"Sorry about that."

He stood up shakily and started back towards the table, but Amy blocked the doorway. 

"Jake, what's going on?"

"Nothing, it's no big deal. My stomach's just messed up today." He tried to go around her, but she wouldn't budge. 

"I'm worried about you." Again, that pleading expression took up residence in her eyes. She wondered if he could see it. If only she knew how much it killed him. 

"I'm fine."

Just like that, the pleading was gone. 

"Stop. Stop it! Stop saying you're fine because I know you're not."

He squeezed his eyes shut, and spoke in a low voice, "Amy, please just drop it."

She moved out of his way, dumbfounded, as he left the room.

They didn't talk to each other again until much later that night. Amy was getting into bed when Jake walked in, stripping his shirt off. Without saying a word, he slipped under the covers next to her.

Her jaw dropped. 

Just below the scar on his neck was one of several swollen red dots that Amy recognized as the marks from a taser mixed in with circles left by countless cigarettes that had been pressed into his skin. Stretching the height of his left side was a faint red line that branched into more and more, spreading just barely onto his chest like a web. A Lichtenberg figure, Amy recalled, the mark left by an electric shock. They don't last more than a day, which must've meant that, Amy shuddered, trying to shut down the thought, but it pushed its way through. 

She pictured him shaking and convulsing on the ground, just yesterday, helpless to stop the pain. All the while, she'd been with the squad, celebrating the news that Jake would be returning the next day. It made her sick to her stomach.

How many more scars did he have hidden under their sheets? 

What about the ones she'd never see, the ones he buried deep, deep inside of him?

What did those look like?

"I missed you so much," she whimpered, her voice scarcely audible. 

He turned to her, eyes tilted in a questioning expression.

"I missed you," she repeated louder, "I just wanted you to know that."

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her, and though she tried to convince herself otherwise, she was sure she felt the ghost of a tear on her shoulder. 

"I missed you too."

Amy woke to the sound of a soul being ripped from a body. That was her first thought anyway, that nothing else could possibly make that sound. Before her barely-conscious brain could even figure out where it was coming from, it brought tears to her eyes. It was just so raw, so full of terror and pain. Then, as her eyes adjusted, she processed the sight of her boyfriend's open mouth and connected it to the horrible noise that absolutely gutted her, and that made it all the worse. 

She jumped into action, wrapping her arms gently around Jake's sweating shoulders, careful to avoid the many red marks that still pulled at her heartstrings, and whispering into his ears that he was safe, that it was all going to be okay, and above all, that she loved him so, so much. 

Slowly, his clammy hands returned to normal and the raggedness in his breathing evened out. Amy reached up to wipe one final tear from his cheek.

"Thanks," he said, and even though she'd been hearing it ever since he got back, the gruff tone in his voice still jarred her.

She almost started to ask him about it, but he was already tucking his shoulders back under the sheets. Instead, she sighed and did the same.

She was drifting back to sleep when she felt the sensation of someone else's fingers weaving their way into her own.

The next time she awoke, it was to the soft rays of sunlight creeping through her blinds. Jake was fast asleep, his hand still in hers. 

* * *

The whole squad stood on the other side of the glass, watching Jake interrogate Rocco Bianchi, a drug dealer he'd taken down during his undercover mission infiltrating the coveted Bianchi crime family. 

He banged his fists into the table, "I know you know where she is, and I am _not_ leaving this room until you tell me." Amy caught a glimpse of his face, and anger was etched into every line. The whole squad was deeply unnerved by it, she could feel it. It had been a running joke among the precinct that Jake had always been kind of adorable when angry, like a kitten trying to flatten its ears after being petted too much, but nothing about this was cute. No, this was terrifying.

Even Rocco, a hardened criminal was losing his nerve quickly. 

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you, but I want to cut a deal. I've got a 40-year sentence right now, I want it down to 20."

Jake leaned in close. "35, _if_ your info checks out. If not, 45 for obstruction of justice."

Rocco gulped, "Yeah, you got it."

And with that, he got an address and the search for Donna Bianchi began. 

The team was out to the warehouse that Rocco had directed them to in a matter of minutes. 

"Only 20 minutes away from the precinct, she's been hiding right under my nose this whole time," Jake muttered. Amy looked across the van at him. His face was dark, eyes absolutely irate. She'd never seen him like this.

He was first through the door when they arrived, rushing ahead of the squad. He busted into the warehouse, guns at the ready, but it was empty. 

Written on the wall in an unidentified substance was a message, _YOU DIDN'T REALLY THINK I'D STAY HERE, DID YOU?_

And Jake snapped, her phantom laughter echoing in his ears. He slammed his fist against the wall just as a strangled shout clawed its way out of his throat.

Amy ran to comfort him, unaware of the red stain he'd left on the wall. She took his hand, and it was then that she saw the red droplets falling to the floor. 

"Oh my God, babe." She pulled a travel-size first aid kit out of one of the pockets on her gear (she always carried one) and bandaged his fist, the off-white color already starting to tint red. 

He didn't say a word. 

Once they were back at the precinct, the squad subconsciously gathered in the break room, Jake too busy taking apart all the information he had on Donna to notice. 

They stood in silence for a few moments, no one entirely sure of what to say. 

Amy was the one to break it. 

"Jake isn't okay."

"No, he is decidedly not," said the captain. 

Terry nodded while Charles stood in the corner, crying as quietly as he could, which was not very. 

Rosa asked the unspoken question that had been hanging in the air since their arrival. "What do we do about it?" 

Gina stared at the ground several feet in front of her.

"I don't know. I've been handling him since we were little, but this is totally off-brand for him." 

Rosa bit her lip. "I guess we just keep an eye out for him and," she paused, "try to avoid whatever that was."

"I'll talk to him," Amy sighed nervously. 

For the second time since he'd come back, she led him out to the balcony. 

This time, she spoke before he had a chance to brush her off. 

"Look, I know you want to say that you're 'fine,' but I know you're not, and I'm really worried about you. You're scaring me, Jake."

At her last sentence, he flinched away. 

For the first time in a while, she heard the emotion pushing through his new voice. 

"I'm sorry, Amy. I never meant to hurt you."

"No, babe, that's not what I mean-"

"I should go, you shouldn't have to deal with me, I'm so sorry-"

"What? No, Jake." He continued rambling. 

"Jake, shut up."

He stopped in his tracks, staring at her blankly as if she'd pressed the power button and turned him off. 

"I love you. You're scaring me because I'm concerned about your safety. I know that you would never do anything hurt me and you haven't. I just want you to be okay, and I mean actually okay, not whatever you're feeling now. I know you better than that."

His expression softened into something she couldn't quite recognize.

"I love you too."

This time, they went inside together. 

It wasn't much, but Amy was willing to take the victory, no matter how small. 

* * *

She didn't know it could get any worse, but it did. If the sound she'd heard last time was a soul being ripped from a body, this one was a thousand souls being ripped from a thousand different bodies. It startled her awake, bringing her straight to full, 100% consciousness. Again, she reached for his shoulders, hoping it would be enough. 

He jerked away from her so hard he fell off the bed. 

His sobs were loud and awful. Every one shattered her into a million different pieces. He trembled on the ground, clutching his ears, trying to stop whatever terrible sound he was hearing.

She stepped off the bed, keeping her distance, but still trying to be close to him. At the sound of her footsteps, he scrambled backwards until he was pressed against the corner of their bedroom, wedged between his nightstand and the wall. 

"Jake, it's me, Amy," she said, hiding the quiver in her voice as best she could. 

He froze.

"Jake?"

Eyes still screwed shut, he called hoarsely, "Is it really you? Amy?" For once, she didn't cringe at the sound of her name. It sounded like the way he used to say it, filled with love and tenderness, and now, so much hope. But she couldn't let herself get distracted from the task at hand.

"Yes! Yes, it's me. I'm here," she whispered, unable to contain the pure bliss bursting inside of her. 

"Do you promise?" he said, and she opened her mouth to answer him, but she didn't get the chance.

"Because if you're not there, I can't do this. I don't want to wake up and you not be there."

Tears spilled down both of their cheeks.

"Babe, I promise, I'm here."

And then came his reply, voice smaller than she'd ever heard it:

"But you promised last time."

In that moment, Amy wanted to scream. She wanted to shout and swear and shake her fist at the universe, because how _dare_ it ever let this happen to someone as wonderful, as perfect, as full of everything that was good in the world as Jake Peralta. Instead, she did everything she could to remain calm and rational, because that was what he needed right now. 

"Will you let me touch you? Will you believe me then?"

His mouth became a thin, tense line as he nodded slowly.

At first, she didn't know exactly what to do, how to prove to him that she was real. She approached him slowly, but just before she made her move, he spoke again. 

"I'm scared, Ames."

She stopped dead, this time failing to contain herself. 

"You called me Ames."

He opened his eyes just as she planted a soft kiss on his forehead. In one long breath, the tension came pouring out of him. He reached his arms up, pulling her into him, and for the first time, she felt like he was really home. 

* * *

She'd prepared herself for disappointment, for him to ignore what had happened last night and tell her in that icy voice that he was fine.

She whipped around when she heard it, nearly spilling the coffee she'd made him. 

"Good morning, Ames." 

She practically threw the mug down onto the counter, still keeping the contents safely inside, and sprinted across the room to wrap him in a tight hug. She half-expected him to push her off, but he melted into her embrace. 

"It's so good to hear you sound like you," she admitted. She didn't have to explain to him the new Jake that had overtaken him; as far as she knew (and she knew him quite well), he understood.

They spent a morning together unlike any other in the week since he'd returned. It was almost like old times. He moved stiffly and his eyes still looked a little sad, and he'd yet to make a joke, but his voice had returned to its normal pitch and cadence, and he called her by the name she'd grown to love so much. It had finally hit him, it seemed, that he was really, actually home. 

The moment Jake walked into the precinct, the change in him was obvious to everyone. Except for Rosa, who reluctantly joined in later, the whole squad ran to encase him in a bone-crushing hug. Holt was the first to do it, having perfected his power-walking skills long ago. 

They didn't have to explain why, he knew. 

Later that day, he was engrossed in a case, not the Bianchi crime family one, he'd been removed from that, just a B&E to get him back on track. 

Amy was fiddling with one of her binders when the blood-curdling sound of paper tearing filled her ears. 

"Shoot, I can't find the hole!"

From across the room, she heard it. The whole room stood still.

He had mumbled, "Title of your sex tape." 

Charles burst into tears and Jake looked up, the realization of what he'd done only half settled in. 

Then the Sergeant yelled, "He's back!" and Gina whooped, and he saw the tears of joy streaming down Amy's face, along with just a single one on Holt's. Even Rosa smirked just a little bit. 

As the widest grin spread across his face, they knew that it was all going to be alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this, I hope y'all enjoyed it too :)


	16. Move On, She Says (car's stuck in reverse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From eleanor: "hey, could you do something with amy x rosa romantically? maybe an angst with diaz being cute and helping amy, or where diaz is abused and amy comforts her... i don't know, i just love their dynamics and i will be happy to read anything you do"
> 
> I decided to go the dark route because I'm sure y'all know by now, angst is my shit :)  
> Not gonna spoil it all yet since this is part 1
> 
> Edit: Ugh, sorry this week has been so busy. I wish I could update more. I literally write every free second.
> 
> Edit: I decided to post this first part because this damn fic is taking me so long to write (this week has been ridiculously packed) and I wanted to get something out there to feel productive and also to prove that I have actually been trying. @eleanor, I will finish this, it is still in progress, this is just the beginning.
> 
> I REPEAT. THIS IS STILL IN PROGRESS. IT IS NOT FINISHED. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING.
> 
> Another Edit: Still not finished but I'm updating again because I feel bad that it's taking me so long to do this. Again I went away last week and I was writing in between classes too I'm trying I promise. Also, this is gonna end up being like 4000 words, why am I like this? It's fine yall love me for it.

Amy stepped off the elevator, catching a glimpse of Rosa Diaz out of the corner of her eye, jet black curls cascading down her shoulders. Forcing herself to look away, she turned to her desk and sat down. 

Even as she did her paperwork, something she usually had no trouble devoting all her attention to, she found herself stealing glances across the bullpen.

"Wow, Amy. Stare much?" She whipped around to her deskmate, heat spreading across her cheeks. 

"I wasn't staring!" she said, just a little bit too defensively. 

"Santiago has a cru-ush," he sang.

Even though not a single head had turned, Amy still felt their eyes on her. "Jake, be quiet!" she hissed, "I do not."

"Yeah, right. 'Maybe Rosa could work the case with me.' 'Maybe Rosa and I could do the coffee run.' 'Maybe Rosa and I could go undercover for a year as a couple but end up actually falling in love,'" he mocked, smirking. 

She jumped at a low voice behind her. 

"I heard my name, what's up?"

"Uh, oh! Jake and I were just," she panicked, "talking about that B&E that we worked the other day. It was lit." She slid her hand through the air to indicate litness. 

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "He turned himself in. While crying." 

"Yeah, you know, cop stuff," she said, still gesticulating awkwardly. 

"Yeah," Rosa replied, staringly blankly at Amy for a moment before walking back to her own desk. Amy waited until she was out of earshot to let out a frustrated sigh. She looked back over at Jake, who was biting his lip, obviously about to explode with laughter. 

"Shut up, this isn't funny!"

Apparently, that was the last straw for him. He nearly burst into tears. 

"Are you kidding? It was hilarious. No, it was," he paused for emphasis, looking directly into her eyes, "lit." 

"Ugh! I hate you."

"Pssh, you couldn't if you tried."

He looked back at her again, only to find her eyes on someone else.

"Huh, you really like her, don't you?"

She snapped out of her trance.

"Nuh-uh." 

He clearly wasn't satisfied with her response. 

"I can appreciate her aesthetic, you know, as a fellow badass woman. And yeah, maybe I think she's pretty." 

Upon hearing this, his grin grew wider. He knew she was mere seconds away from cracking. 

"Okay, fine! I like her. But if you tell anyone I will destroy the spare copy of Die Hard that you keep in your desk." 

His jaw dropped. "You wouldn't!"

She waggled an eyebrow, then talked off to do casework, leaving him alone to sit with her victory. 

* * *

"Space buns. Rosa with space buns. What?" Amy stammers, trying to cover her awkwardness as Rosa walked into the precinct.

"Is something wrong with them, Santiago?" Rosa inquired, hostility brewing in her voice. Amy heard Jake snicker from somewhere behind her.

Sparing a quick second to shoot a death glare at him before answering more smoothly, "No, not at all. They actually suit you really well."

Rosa's lips turned upwards and Amy felt her heart flutter. 

"Thanks. Your tight-ass ponytail isn't too shabby either."

She smiled politely before turning back to her desk as quickly as possible to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. 

"Oh, what are you smiling at?"

Jake's smirk spread even wider. "Are you kidding? You two were totally flirting."

She scoffed. "It wasn't that big a deal."

"Um, Rosa _smiled._ This is _Rosa_. She might as well have publicly confessed that she's in love with you."

"No-"

Amy was interrupted by a voice her brain seemed to be wired to recognize.

"Hey Santiago."

"What's up, Rosa?"

"I've got a tough case and I want a second opinion from someone smart. Want to work it with me?"

It was Amy's turn to grin. "Yeah, I'd love to."

As she followed Rosa back to her desk, she heard Jake's distinctive whisper.

"Totally in love."

"Shut up!"

Rosa turned back questioningly, "What?"

She stumbled for a moment. "Oh, uh, nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Cool. Let's get down to business."

They reached their destination, and Amy immediately noticed the intricate knife lying on the desk. 

"Woah, is that the murder weapon? Why isn't it bagged?" 

Rosa shook her head. "Nah, that's mine."

Amy reached for it, the sudden urge to run her fingers over the detailing overcoming her, but her arm froze in place halfway to it. This belonged to Rosa. Amy doubted she would appreciate someone else's greedy hands all over her stuff. 

Normally, she would've been right.

"Go ahead."

Amy opened her mouth to say something in response but shut it in favor of delicately picking up the knife. The raised parts of the detailing were worn, revealing the silver underneath the shiny, black coating. She did, in fact, trace her fingers over these silver lines, relishing the smoothness of them against her hand. All at once, she understood why Rosa liked weapons so much.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. 

"It's one of my favorites."

Amy snorted, "Yes, it's very 'you.'" 

Again, Rosa smiled. It was a little bit strange; happy wasn't a color Amy saw on her very often. She made it a mental goal of hers to change that. She would do anything if it meant she got to see that beautiful smile again. 

But, in a split second, it was gone, replaced by something even better. Rosa was laughing- not cackling, like she usually did when Jake or Gina pranked someone- a genuine, joyful laugh. It filled Amy with a sort of floaty feeling, as though the sound was bubbling up underneath her and lifting her off the ground. 

Then, the elevator dinged behind them, and a tall, pale man stepped out, donning a smile that spread from ear to ear.

"Hey, Rosa."

In a flash, the laughter disappeared. She whipped around to face him.

"Tristan, what are you doing here?" she said, clearly surprised. 

His smile seemed to grow even more at the sight of her. "I was missing you, so I decided to come visit. Am I," he paused, tone still light as ever, "interrupting something?"

Rosa was quick to answer him, "No! I'm so happy to see you, I just wasn't expecting it." 

She practically leapt over to him, allowing him to press a kiss to her lips. 

She turned back around- it seemed at some point, their hands had linked together- and suddenly remembered her other partner. 

"Oh, Amy. This is my boyfriend, Tristan. Tristan, this is my colleague, Amy." 

She had to consciously stop her jaw from dropping. Boyfriend, colleague, her head was spinning. Rosa had a boyfriend, and she had just been colleague-zoned. 

Remembering the several people standing in front of her, she wiped the shock off her face as fast as she could. "Tristan, nice to meet you."

"You too. So Rosa, do you think you have time to have lunch with me? You've been so busy with cop stuff, I feel like we haven't been spending much time together lately," he said, blushing as he looked shyly at his feet. 

"Oh, I'd love to, but my lunch break doesn't start for another twenty minutes-"

She'd barely finished when Holt stepped out of his office.

"Detective Diaz, you have been doing some fantastic police work as of late and working quite a bit of overtime. As your captain, I think the effort you've put in merits a reward. Please, enjoy your early lunch break."

She gave a quick nod. "Thank you, sir." With that, she led Tristan out of the precinct.

Amy still hadn't moved a muscle. She stood, dumbfounded, as the elevator disappeared.

Mercifully, Jake had seen the whole interaction.

"Hey, Santiago! I have a, um, thing I need to talk to you about. On the balcony. Come out to the balcony."

She reanimated, following him outside. He waited for her to catch up to him and then took her hand. As soon as he did, she let herself go on autopilot and be dragged out to a chair. He let go, and she collapsed in it, staring vacantly into the grey of New York City. 

"Ames, are you okay?"

She still didn't turn to look at him. "I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought she might actually like me. Ugh, I'm such an idiot!"

He grabbed her hand again and squeezed it. 

"Hey," he said soothingly, "You're not an idiot."

He didn't say anything for another moment, deep in thought. 

"Something is off. I'm not surprised Rosa didn't tell us about her boyfriend, but she would never lead you on if she didn't have feelings for you."

Amy shook her head. "She wasn't flirting with me. It was all in my head."

Jake looked pointedly at her, but she was still turned away. "No way! You two had some serious chemistry. You're not an idiot, and she isn't either. She had to know that you weren't just being friendly." 

Finally, Amy looked him in the eyes. "Do you really think that?"

"Yeah, I do. Rosa isn't telling us something. She wouldn't do that to you. She completely changed the way she was talking to you as soon as he came in. Plus, I've never heard her use the word 'colleague' in my life."

"What do you think she's hiding?" she said, still uncertain. 

He sighed, "I think she's waiting to break up with him."

"I guess that would make sense. Thanks for pulling me out of there, by the way."

He smiled at her, "You owe me one, Santiago." 

She rolled her eyes at him and then went inside. Once Rosa came back, they would work the case together, and she would do some sleuthing of her own. 

An hour later, she was back, no sign of Tristan. Her face was as expressionless as ever. 

For a hopeful second, Amy wondered if she'd broken it off during lunch, but Rosa quashed that notion almost instantly. 

"I said goodbye to Tristan outside. I figured Holt wouldn't want any distractions in the precinct."

"Cool, let's get back to the case."

Rosa seemed to perk up a little bit at that. "Sounds good." 

She sat down at her desk, and Amy pulled up a chair beside her. Rosa worked on her computer, searching through images of the crime scene while Amy meticulously scanned the case file for any information they might have missed. 

As hard as she tried to keep her mind on the case, she couldn't help but get a little distracted when Rosa shifted her foot to the side so that their ankles were pressed together. She wondered for a moment if the gesture was intentional, but snapped herself out of it as quickly as she could. Rosa had a boyfriend. She and Amy were friends, if that, and that was all they would ever be. 

An hour later, both of them were exhausted. They'd worked much longer hours before, but the precinct was bustling with people today. One of the witnesses had decided to bring their screaming baby along, and the perps in the holding cell were protesting, which just made the baby scream louder, which made them angrier... The point is it was impossible to focus. 

Then, they started banging on the bars.

Rosa stood up abruptly. "That's it. We're working this case somewhere else."

Amy sighed. "Where? We can't work it in public."

"Can we go to your apartment?"

She shook her head, "They're renovating the apartment above mine, it won't be any better."

Then, Amy had an idea. 

"How about we go to your apartment, Rosa?"

"No. Absolutely not." 

"Come on, why? It's the best option we have. I won't tell anyone where you live," she added mockingly. 

"I live with Tristan. He gets back from work at 5." 

"We'll leave at 4:30. Please, Rosa, I have the worst headache," she begged, shooting her best pleading eyes at her. 

Rosa seemed to soften. "Alright, fine. But I'm holding you to that." 

She snorted, "This is Amy Santiago you're talking to. My time management skills are unmatched." 

* * *

Amy stepped into Rosa's apartment, not entirely sure of what she'd find. To her surprise, the apartment was relatively, well, normal. 

"This is not what I expected your place to look like." 

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "What did you expect?"

She didn't immediately know how to answer. "I don't know, a weapon wall, or eight padlocks on the door."

Rosa laughed again, like she had the day Amy met Tristan. This time, the butterflies in her stomach felt like a tornado. 

"Nah, the weapon wall's in my bedroom."

And then Amy was laughing too, even though she wasn't entirely sure Rosa was joking. 

Rosa started giggling, a sound Amy had never expected to come out of her. "What? Santiago, you laugh like a donkey."

She clapped a hand to her mouth, wishing she could disappear as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. 

"Oh, crap. No! That wasn't supposed to be mean. It's cute."

_ Oh my God, there is so much to unpack here. _

"You're," she stopped, surprised, "flustered,"  _ and you said my laugh was cute, _ she added in her head. 

"No, I just embarrassed you and I felt bad."

"You have feelings!" Amy shouted gleefully.

"I just didn't mean to insult you, that's all. It's not as fun when it's unintentional," Rosa deadpanned, but the damage had already been done.

"Awe! You care."

"Shut up."

Amy complied, but she held onto the smug grin that had taken up residence on her face.

They spent the next several hours working on the case, much more productively than they had at the precinct. The only time that might have been questionable was when Amy took a 15-minute bathroom break to call Jake and tell him about the whole 'donkey laugh' incident. ("OH MY GOD, I WAS RIGHT. SHE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU!") 

Even though they were working hard, they were both having a really good time. At least, Amy thought they were. The two of them had basically been laughing nonstop since they'd started. For a person with no emotions, Rosa was hilarious. 

It all turned upside down at approximately 4 o'clock. 

A key slid into the lock and the door clicked open.

"Tristan, you're home early," Rosa said, a note of panic in her voice. He ignored her, turning to Amy instead. 

"What are you doing in my apartment?" He sounded calm, but it was forced.

"The precinct was busy today and Rosa and I wanted to go somewhere we'd be able to focus and get more work done. I'm sorry to invade your space-"

"Get out."

She stared at him. "I just need to collect these case files, and then I'll be out of your way."

"Rosa can bring them to you tomorrow. Now get the fuck out of my apartment." 

She turned to Rosa, looking for any kind of reaction, but she was just staring at the ground. Without another word, Amy walked out the door. 

She practically ran all the way home, desperately wanting to hide from the world. Again, she'd let herself believe that there was something between the two of them, but there wasn't, and now she'd gotten Rosa in trouble. Still, she didn't understand why Tristan had been so mad. She didn't see anything wrong with bringing a friend to your apartment. She shrugged it off. Maybe he was just mad because she hadn't told him, or maybe he didn't like strangers in his apartment. 

As soon as she made it back, she collapsed on the couch and pulled out her phone, dialing the first number she had on speed dial. 

"Ames! What's Rosa's apartment like? Tell me everything."

She bit her lip.

Apparently, she'd waited a bit too long to answer him. 

"Ames, what's wrong?" 

"Can you tell Captain Holt I'm not going to make it back to the precinct today?"

Amy could almost hear the gears grinding in his head, trying to solve the puzzle of what had happened. 

"Okay, and then I'm coming over."

She didn't even try to argue. 

"Thanks, Jake." 

"No problem," he said softly. The worry in his voice echoed until the moment he hung up. 

Twenty minutes later, he was at her door. She'd changed into a pair of sweatpants and an NYPD t-shirt, and her usually neat ponytail had unraveled into something decidedly less so. Based on all the crying she'd done, she suspected her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

"Amy, what happened?"

"I don't know. Her boyfriend came home and found us and he was really pissed."

He thought for a moment. "Found you? Like, kissing, having sex?"

"God no!" she said, "I would never encourage her to cheat. We were just working the case together." 

He cocked his head to the side. "Then why did he get so mad?"

"I don't know." 

She wasn't entirely sure why, but something about that made the tears start pouring all over again. 

"Oh, Ames," he said as he pulled her into a hug, "We're gonna figure this out, I promise." 

"Thanks," she sniffled. 

Not needing to ask, he shifted their position so that they were facing the TV and turned it on, opening Netflix and selecting a documentary about Taylor Swift. 

"We're watching this and you're going to feel better, got it?"

She nodded. "Got it."


	17. Move On, She Says (car's stuck in reverse) - Complete Version

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, sorry about that.
> 
> It came out so long - oof.
> 
> ACK - FORGOT TO ADD A TRIGGER WARNING ON THIS  
> SCROLL PAST THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS  
> SERIOUSLY START SCROLLING NOW  
> I SAID SCROLL  
> trigger warning - domestic abuse

Amy stepped off the elevator, catching a glimpse of Rosa Diaz out of the corner of her eye, jet black curls cascading down her shoulders. Forcing herself to look away, she turned to her desk and sat down. 

Even as she did her paperwork, something she usually had no trouble devoting all her attention to, she found herself stealing glances across the bullpen.

"Wow, Amy. Stare much?" She whipped around to her deskmate, heat spreading across her cheeks. 

"I wasn't staring!" she said, just a little bit too defensively. 

"Santiago has a cru-ush," he sang.

Even though not a single head had turned, Amy still felt their eyes on her. "Jake, be quiet!" she hissed, "I do not."

"Yeah, right. 'Maybe Rosa could work the case with me.' 'Maybe Rosa and I could do the coffee run.' 'Maybe Rosa and I could go undercover for a year as a couple but end up actually falling in love,'" he mocked, smirking. 

She jumped at a low voice behind her. 

"I heard my name, what's up?"

"Uh, oh! Jake and I were just," she panicked, "talking about that B&E that we worked the other day. It was lit." She slid her hand through the air to indicate litness. 

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "He turned himself in. While crying." 

"Yeah, you know, cop stuff," she said, still gesticulating awkwardly. 

"Yeah," Rosa replied, staringly blankly at Amy for a moment before walking back to her own desk. Amy waited until she was out of earshot to let out a frustrated sigh. She looked back over at Jake, who was biting his lip, obviously about to explode with laughter. 

"Shut up, this isn't funny!"

Apparently, that was the last straw for him. He nearly burst into tears. 

"Are you kidding? It was hilarious. No, it was," he paused for emphasis, looking directly into her eyes, "lit." 

"Ugh! I hate you."

"Pssh, you couldn't if you tried."

He looked back at her again, only to find her eyes on someone else.

"Huh, you really like her, don't you?"

She snapped out of her trance.

"Nuh-uh." 

He clearly wasn't satisfied with her response. 

"I can appreciate her aesthetic, you know, as a fellow badass woman. And yeah, maybe I think she's pretty." 

Upon hearing this, his grin grew wider. He knew she was mere seconds away from cracking. 

"Okay, fine! I like her. But if you tell anyone I will destroy the spare copy of Die Hard that you keep in your desk." 

His jaw dropped. "You wouldn't!"

She waggled an eyebrow, then talked off to do casework, leaving him alone to sit with her victory. 

* * *

"Space buns. Rosa with space buns. What?" Amy stammers, trying to cover her awkwardness as Rosa walked into the precinct.

"Is something wrong with them, Santiago?" Rosa inquired, hostility brewing in her voice. Amy heard Jake snicker from somewhere behind her.

Sparing a quick second to shoot a death glare at him before answering more smoothly, "No, not at all. They actually suit you really well."

Rosa's lips turned upwards and Amy felt her heart flutter. 

"Thanks. Your tight-ass ponytail isn't too shabby either."

She smiled politely before turning back to her desk as quickly as possible to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. 

"Oh, what are you smiling at?"

Jake's smirk spread even wider. "Are you kidding? You two were totally flirting."

She scoffed. "It wasn't that big a deal."

"Um, Rosa _smiled._ This is _Rosa_. She might as well have publicly confessed that she's in love with you."

"No-"

Amy was interrupted by a voice her brain seemed to be wired to recognize.

"Hey Santiago."

"What's up, Rosa?"

"I've got a tough case and I want a second opinion from someone smart. Want to work it with me?"

It was Amy's turn to grin. "Yeah, I'd love to."

As she followed Rosa back to her desk, she heard Jake's distinctive whisper.

"Totally in love."

"Shut up!"

Rosa turned back questioningly, "What?"

She stumbled for a moment. "Oh, uh, nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Cool. Let's get down to business."

They reached their destination, and Amy immediately noticed the intricate knife lying on the desk. 

"Woah, is that the murder weapon? Why isn't it bagged?" 

Rosa shook her head. "Nah, that's mine."

Amy reached for it, the sudden urge to run her fingers over the detailing overcoming her, but her arm froze in place halfway to it. This belonged to Rosa. Amy doubted she would appreciate someone else's greedy hands all over her stuff. 

Normally, she would've been right.

"Go ahead."

Amy opened her mouth to say something in response but shut it in favor of delicately picking up the knife. The raised parts of the detailing were worn, revealing the silver underneath the shiny, black coating. She did, in fact, trace her fingers over these silver lines, relishing the smoothness of them against her hand. All at once, she understood why Rosa liked weapons so much.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. 

"It's one of my favorites."

Amy snorted, "Yes, it's very 'you.'" 

Again, Rosa smiled. It was a little bit strange; happy wasn't a color Amy saw on her very often. She made it a mental goal of hers to change that. She would do anything if it meant she got to see that beautiful smile again. 

But, in a split second, it was gone, replaced by something even better. Rosa was laughing- not cackling, like she usually did when Jake or Gina pranked someone- a genuine, joyful laugh. It filled Amy with a sort of floaty feeling, as though the sound was bubbling up underneath her and lifting her off the ground. 

Then, the elevator dinged behind them, and a tall, pale man stepped out, donning a smile that spread from ear to ear.

"Hey, Rosa."

In a flash, the laughter disappeared. She whipped around to face him.

"Tristan, what are you doing here?" she said, clearly surprised. 

His smile seemed to grow even more at the sight of her. "I was missing you, so I decided to come visit. Am I," he paused, tone still light as ever, "interrupting something?"

Rosa was quick to answer him, "No! I'm so happy to see you, I just wasn't expecting it." 

She practically leapt over to him, allowing him to press a kiss to her lips. 

She turned back around- it seemed at some point, their hands had linked together- and suddenly remembered her other partner. 

"Oh, Amy. This is my boyfriend, Tristan. Tristan, this is my colleague, Amy." 

She had to consciously stop her jaw from dropping. Boyfriend, colleague, her head was spinning. Rosa had a boyfriend, and she had just been colleague-zoned. 

Remembering the several people standing in front of her, she wiped the shock off her face as fast as she could. "Tristan, nice to meet you."

"You too. So Rosa, do you think you have time to have lunch with me? You've been so busy with cop stuff, I feel like we haven't been spending much time together lately," he said, blushing as he looked shyly at his feet. 

"Oh, I'd love to, but my lunch break doesn't start for another twenty minutes-"

She'd barely finished when Holt stepped out of his office.

"Detective Diaz, you have been doing some fantastic police work as of late and working quite a bit of overtime. As your captain, I think the effort you've put in merits a reward. Please, enjoy your early lunch break."

She gave a quick nod. "Thank you, sir." With that, she led Tristan out of the precinct.

Amy still hadn't moved a muscle. She stood, dumbfounded, as the elevator disappeared.

Mercifully, Jake had seen the whole interaction.

"Hey, Santiago! I have a, um, thing I need to talk to you about. On the balcony. Come out to the balcony."

She reanimated, following him outside. He waited for her to catch up to him and then took her hand. As soon as he did, she let herself go on autopilot and be dragged out to a chair. He let go, and she collapsed in it, staring vacantly into the grey of New York City. 

"Ames, are you okay?"

She still didn't turn to look at him. "I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought she might actually like me. Ugh, I'm such an idiot!"

He grabbed her hand again and squeezed it. 

"Hey," he said soothingly, "You're not an idiot."

He didn't say anything for another moment, deep in thought. 

"Something is off. I'm not surprised Rosa didn't tell us about her boyfriend, but she would never lead you on if she didn't have feelings for you."

Amy shook her head. "She wasn't flirting with me. It was all in my head."

Jake looked pointedly at her, but she was still turned away. "No way! You two had some serious chemistry. You're not an idiot, and she isn't either. She had to know that you weren't just being friendly." 

Finally, Amy looked him in the eyes. "Do you really think that?"

"Yeah, I do. Rosa isn't telling us something. She wouldn't do that to you. She completely changed the way she was talking to you as soon as he came in. Plus, I've never heard her use the word 'colleague' in my life."

"What do you think she's hiding?" she said, still uncertain. 

He sighed, "I think she's waiting to break up with him."

"I guess that would make sense. Thanks for pulling me out of there, by the way."

He smiled at her, "You owe me one, Santiago." 

She rolled her eyes at him and then went inside. Once Rosa came back, they would work the case together, and she would do some sleuthing of her own. 

An hour later, she was back, no sign of Tristan. Her face was as expressionless as ever. 

For a hopeful second, Amy wondered if she'd broken it off during lunch, but Rosa quashed that notion almost instantly. 

"I said goodbye to Tristan outside. I figured Holt wouldn't want any distractions in the precinct."

"Cool, let's get back to the case."

Rosa seemed to perk up a little bit at that. "Sounds good." 

She sat down at her desk, and Amy pulled up a chair beside her. Rosa worked on her computer, searching through images of the crime scene while Amy meticulously scanned the case file for any information they might have missed. 

As hard as she tried to keep her mind on the case, she couldn't help but get a little distracted when Rosa shifted her foot to the side so that their ankles were pressed together. She wondered for a moment if the gesture was intentional, but snapped herself out of it as quickly as she could. Rosa had a boyfriend. She and Amy were friends, if that, and that was all they would ever be. 

An hour later, both of them were exhausted. They'd worked much longer hours before, but the precinct was bustling with people today. One of the witnesses had decided to bring their screaming baby along, and the perps in the holding cell were protesting, which just made the baby scream louder, which made them angrier... The point is it was impossible to focus. 

Then, they started banging on the bars.

Rosa stood up abruptly. "That's it. We're working this case somewhere else."

Amy sighed. "Where? We can't work it in public."

"Can we go to your apartment?"

She shook her head, "They're renovating the apartment above mine, it won't be any better."

Then, Amy had an idea. 

"How about we go to your apartment, Rosa?"

"No. Absolutely not." 

"Come on, why? It's the best option we have. I won't tell anyone where you live," she added mockingly. 

"I live with Tristan. He gets back from work at 5." 

"We'll leave at 4:30. Please, Rosa, I have the worst headache," she begged, shooting her best pleading eyes at her. 

Rosa seemed to soften. "Alright, fine. But I'm holding you to that." 

She snorted, "This is Amy Santiago you're talking to. My time management skills are unmatched." 

* * *

Amy stepped into Rosa's apartment, not entirely sure of what she'd find. To her surprise, the apartment was relatively, well, normal. 

"This is not what I expected your place to look like." 

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "What did you expect?"

She didn't immediately know how to answer. "I don't know, a weapon wall, or eight padlocks on the door."

Rosa laughed again, like she had the day Amy met Tristan. This time, the butterflies in her stomach felt like a tornado. 

"Nah, the weapon wall's in my bedroom."

And then Amy was laughing too, even though she wasn't entirely sure Rosa was joking. 

Rosa started giggling, a sound Amy had never expected to come out of her. "What? Santiago, you laugh like a donkey."

She clapped a hand to her mouth, wishing she could disappear as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. 

"Oh, crap. No! That wasn't supposed to be mean. It's cute."

_Oh my God, there is so much to unpack here._

"You're," she stopped, surprised, "flustered," _and you said my laugh was cute,_ she added in her head. 

"No, I just embarrassed you and I felt bad."

"You have feelings!" Amy shouted gleefully.

"I just didn't mean to insult you, that's all. It's not as fun when it's unintentional," Rosa deadpanned, but the damage had already been done.

"Awe! You care."

"Shut up."

Amy complied, but she held onto the smug grin that had taken up residence on her face.

They spent the next several hours working on the case, much more productively than they had at the precinct. The only time that might have been questionable was when Amy took a 15-minute bathroom break to call Jake and tell him about the whole 'donkey laugh' incident. ("OH MY GOD, I WAS RIGHT. SHE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU!") 

Even though they were working hard, they were both having a really good time. At least, Amy thought they were. The two of them had basically been laughing nonstop since they'd started. For a person with no emotions, Rosa was hilarious. 

It all turned upside down at approximately 4 o'clock. 

A key slid into the lock and the door clicked open.

"Tristan, you're home early," Rosa said, a note of panic in her voice. He ignored her, turning to Amy instead. 

"What are you doing in my apartment?" He sounded calm, but it was forced.

"The precinct was busy today and Rosa and I wanted to go somewhere we'd be able to focus and get more work done. I'm sorry to invade your space-"

"Get out."

She stared at him. "I just need to collect these case files, and then I'll be out of your way."

"Rosa can bring them to you tomorrow. Now get the fuck out of my apartment." 

She turned to Rosa, looking for any kind of reaction, but she was just staring at the ground. Without another word, Amy walked out the door. 

She practically ran all the way home, desperately wanting to hide from the world. Again, she'd let herself believe that there was something between the two of them, but there wasn't, and now she'd gotten Rosa in trouble. Still, she didn't understand why Tristan had been so mad. She didn't see anything wrong with bringing a friend to your apartment. She shrugged it off. Maybe he was just mad because she hadn't told him, or maybe he didn't like strangers in his apartment. 

As soon as she made it back, she collapsed on the couch and pulled out her phone, dialing the first number she had on speed dial. 

"Ames! What's Rosa's apartment like? Tell me everything."

She bit her lip.

Apparently, she'd waited a bit too long to answer him. 

"Ames, what's wrong?" 

"Can you tell Captain Holt I'm not going to make it back to the precinct today?"

Amy could almost hear the gears grinding in his head, trying to solve the puzzle of what had happened. 

"Okay, and then I'm coming over."

She didn't even try to argue. 

"Thanks, Jake." 

"No problem," he said softly. The worry in his voice echoed until the moment he hung up. 

Twenty minutes later, he was at her door. She'd changed into a pair of sweatpants and an NYPD t-shirt, and her usually neat ponytail had unraveled into something decidedly less so. Based on all the crying she'd done, she suspected her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

"Amy, what happened?"

"I don't know. Her boyfriend came home and found us and he was really pissed."

He thought for a moment. "Found you? Like, kissing, having sex?"

"God no!" she said, "I would never encourage her to cheat. We were just working the case together." 

He cocked his head to the side. "Then why did he get so mad?"

"I don't know." 

She wasn't entirely sure why, but something about that made the tears start pouring all over again. 

"Oh, Ames," he said as he pulled her into a hug, "We're gonna figure this out, I promise." 

"Thanks," she sniffled. 

Not needing to ask, he shifted their position so that they were facing the TV and turned it on, opening Netflix and selecting a documentary about Taylor Swift. 

"We're watching this and you're going to feel better, got it?"

She nodded. "Got it."

* * *

The next day, Rosa arrived a few minutes late. She rushed out of the elevator and straight to her desk- she must've been trying to avoid being seen by the captain, Amy thought- but not fast enough for Amy to miss the black turtleneck she was wearing. 

Amy almost started to compliment her on it, but then she remembered how yesterday had ended and decided against it. 

Instead, she buried herself in her work, starting a new case she'd just been assigned. She wanted to ask Rosa about the one they'd been working, but she didn't know how to bring it up. 

Fortunately, she didn't have to. Rosa approached her desk.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. Tristan isn't usually like that, he had a bad day at work. Anyways, thanks for your help with the case, but I think I'm gonna finish it by myself."

Amy did her best to swallow the lump of hurt that rose in her throat. 

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it." 

Rosa gave a curt nod and then retreated back to her own desk. 

"She took you off the case? What?" Jake said as soon as she was gone, "Why would she do that?"

"It's my fault. I begged her to let me go to her place and now she's in trouble because of it."

He reached across the desk to take her hand, "No, it isn't. You didn't do anything wrong. I don't know what's up with her." 

This time, Amy found herself unable to believe him. "I'm going to get back to work."

She felt his gaze on her as she turned back to her computer, his disbelieving eyes stuck between the heaviness inside her and Rosa, walking away. She could read his mind like an open book, and she knew he was trying to understand, wondering if there was something Amy wasn't telling him. 

But little did he know, his best guess would have been as good as hers.

* * * 

An hour later, Rosa led a man in handcuffs into the holding cell. He looks like a suspect that Amy had pointed out to her the day before, before it all went to shit. 

"Is that the guy?" she called out as Rosa locked the door behind her. 

She nodded. "I've got him dead to rights."

She assumed the conversation was over, with the new kind of awkwardness between them and whatnot, but Rosa appeared at her desk.

"Thanks," she said softly, "I couldn't have gotten him without you."

Unsure of what to say, Amy gave her response in the form of a hesitant smile and a dip of her head. Her instincts told her that Rosa was trying to tell her something more, something unrelated to the words she'd said. But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what. 

Rosa had barely made it back to her desk when the precinct was filled with the deafening sound of metal clattering to the ground. Someone had busted the door.

The bullpen flooded with the day's perps, officers running to contain them. Amy jumped into action, branding a pair of handcuffs and preparing to fight. She found herself right across from Rosa, grappling with the perp she'd just brought in. 

Amy managed to get the cuffs on the one trying to escape from her just as Rosa's arrestee grasped at her throat. Fortunately, he didn't manage to do her any serious harm. Instead, his fingers caught on her collar. The noise from the ripping fabric filled her ears as Amy watched her turtleneck became a V-neck. 

At the sight of it, she almost let the criminal in her hands escape. At some point in her shock, a uniformed officer took him from her and returned him to the holding cell. Rosa made quick work of hers and did the same. When she came back, she shot a questioning look at Amy's gaping mouth.

She seemed to realize all at once what had happened. She froze, standing like a deer in the headlights. Just moments later, it clicked in Amy's head what had happened.

Deep, purple bruises covered her skin, with small, intermittent cuts littering her neckline. 

The whole precinct fell silent. Amy wasn't the only one who had seen what happened. 

It took everything she had in her to speak, and still, her voice shook. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

Rosa turned and ran. 

Amy only glanced at the rest of the squad behind her- the worry in their eyes matching hers- before giving chase. She barreled through the precinct, barely managing to keep Rosa in sight. 

At last, she caught up to her in a supply closet that, somehow, in all her years of working here, she'd never seen before. 

"Rosa, who did this to you?" she asked gently, even though she knew the answer.

She watched Rosa's eyes shift between her and the door. Amy figured she was debating her answer.

Then, she broke down, collapsing to the floor in tears. Scarcely audible, she whispered, "Tristan." 

"I'm so sorry, Rosa."

She opened her mouth to say more, but the words didn't come out.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Amy said, but Rosa put a hand up to stop her.

"No, you deserve to know."

She drew in a deep breath.

"It started out fine. He wanted to know everything about me, but I figured that's just how normal people were, like how you guys always want to know about my personal life. But he wanted to know where I was all the time, and he yelled at me when I didn't tell him.

"He was scary, which is weird because I'm not really scared of people, ever. Then, he started to hit me and I knew it was bad, but he has problems, so I guess I thought that he'd get better or something. I don't know, but I would've felt bad leaving him. He told me some very real stuff. I-"

Another fit of tears overtook her. Nervously, Amy put a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know if you want my advice," she started tentatively, "but I think you need to leave him."

"I know," Rosa choked out, "and I want to." She seemed like she wanted to say more, so Amy waited.

"I'm in love with you." 

Amy went completely slack-jawed. 

Rosa curled into herself, as though she was waiting for the metaphorical blow of rejection. It occurred to Amy that she was probably waiting for an actual, physical hit.

"Sorry, I'm just surprised," she stammered, "I'm in love with you too. I thought it was unrequited."

"I'm going to leave Tristan tonight."

Her next words were spoken slowly, like it pained her to say them. "But even after he's gone, I'm not ready."

Tears slipped down Amy's face, but she still found the strength to answer her. "Of course."

"I'll wait for you," she added, and Rosa seemed to melt into her arms. Speaking of which, she didn't really know how she'd ended up there in the first place. 

But she wasn't complaining. 

* * *

Amy stared at the clock. It was 6:30 PM. Rosa had said she'd clock out at 6. Was she home by now? Had she done it?

She thought it was sudden at first, but in retrospect, she could have predicted it. 

She couldn't explain it then, but now, it seemed perfectly logical.

The pit that sank in her stomach came with no rhyme or reason but her own instincts. Her instincts had seldom let her down.

Hence, she trusted them. 

With Holt's permission, she and Jake were at Rosa's apartment within 20 minutes. They could hear sounds coming from inside but couldn't make out what they were. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she knocked on the door.

Abruptly, the sounds stopped, but there was no answer. Jake prepared to break down the door, but Amy put up a hand to stop him. A few minutes later, the noise started up again. 

_Now,_ she mouthed. 

Right on cue, Jake busted in. Immediately, they were met with the sight of Rosa on the floor and Tristan standing over her, fist raised. 

He was handcuffed before Amy could react. She was vaguely aware of Jake reading the Miranda Rights in the background, but her primary focus was the woman on the ground in front of her, battered and bruised, and clutching her arm. She carefully transported her to the couch. Fortunately, she always kept a first-aid kit on her person. 

Silently, she took Rosa's arm from her and wrapped it in a temporary brace. Then, she searched Rosa's freezer for an icepack and brought it back to her. She continued, working her way down the cuts that never seemed to stop appearing. Slowly, the tension began to ease out of Rosa's body as she let herself be taken care of for once in her life.

When Amy was done, she slid down to the floor, resting her back on the couch. At last, Rosa broke the silence. 

"Thanks."

Amy smiled a small, forced smile. "It's no problem."

"I'm sorry I'm so fucked up."

Promptly, Amy turned around and wrapped her arms carefully around the detective. 

"Don't apologize for something that is in no way your fault. I'll wait as long as you need me to and I don't want you to feel guilty about that for a second." 

Rosa didn't answer her for a moment, staring blankly into space. 

"Okay," she said, "I'll try."

Amy's smile became real.

* * *

The day came two weeks after Rosa came back to work. She'd been in therapy for just over a month now, and every day she looked a bit more like her old self.

Amy couldn't help but to get her hopes up each day since Rosa's return, only to get her heart broken every time.

It didn't matter though. For her, she'd do it a million times.

But she didn't have to, because on day 11- not that she'd been counting- Rosa pulled her into a supply closet.

They just stared at each other for about a minute, because what do you possibly say after what they've been through. As far as Amy was concerned, nothing would be enough to encompass it all. She decided she was proven wrong when Rosa spoke some of the most beautiful words Amy had ever heard. 

"I'm ready."

A massive grin began to spread across Amy's face, interrupted by another pair of lips on hers. 

She knew without a doubt that this was the happiest she'd ever been. 


	18. Eighth Time's the Charm... or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually do chapter summaries but season 8 will be the 8th anniversary of Jake having been chasing the Pontiac Bandit for 8 years and I need everyone to appreciate that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From honeybee888: "could you do a jake/doug one shot? i just think they’re interesting. like doug sleeps with jake to not get arrested, and maybe we get a classic “JUDYYYYYYY” idk"
> 
> So excited to write this! I was about to apologize for how long it's taken me to write stuff but I looked back and it's actually only been a month since I got this request which really isn't that bad, also I'm trying to feel less guilty about stuff in general so instead of apologizing, I'm just going to say instead thank you for your patience. :)
> 
> For this request, I'm basically going to pretend that this is the season 8 pontiac bandit episode, except Jake/Amy isn't a thing in this timeline. Jake is single as a pringle because he is a king and would never cheat on anyone, he drinks too much respect women juice. 
> 
> I am also going to explain again for anyone who hasn't seen yet. I'm working on my other project Indefinitely Broken right now too, so I alternate between doing a request and writing a chapter of that, which is why these take me so long now. Also school, and my other hobbies, and homework. Everything eats up my time -_-
> 
> Speaking of which, the new chapter of Indefinitely Broken is up and y'all should check it out if you're into angst and mental health-y stuff. Ignore my shameless self-promotion, but also don't, please check it out, it would mean a lot to me. Unless you don't want to read it because of something that might trigger you in which case don't read it. But yeah you get the idea.

"I can't believe this, Judy! You said you were out of the game. You got married, you even had kids," Jake yelled.

Doug Judy cut him off. "Exactly, man, that's why I had to get back in it. She left me with the kids and I love 'em to death, but God, they are expensive."

Jake stopped at this, "Wait, really? She left you?"

"Yeah," he sighed, looking down, "She was dealing coke. She married me because she thought we could do cars and drugs together, be partners in crime, literally," he added with a touch of his signature Doug Judy humor. Jake felt a blush sweep across his face, though he wasn't sure why. 

"But I told her I wasn't about that life anymore and she flipped out, said I wasn't fun anymore. She was gone by next week."

"That's ridiculous," Jake cried, "You're the most fun!"

"I know, right?"

His head began to nod of its own accord, but he stopped it. "Wait, wasn't she a judge?"

"Mhm, you'd never suspect her," he trailed off. Suddenly, Judy's head snapped up. "Hold up, you don't think I'm lying, do you?"

It took Jake a moment to answer. "No, I don't. You have to admit, it sounds kind of suspicious, but," he paused, "I believe you."

Judy smiled just a little bit and it lit up his whole face. "Thanks," he said softly. 

Again, he began to nod before he could stop himself, but this time, he let it happen. 

"These offenses are less serious than your previous ones, so I can probably cut you a deal."

Judy's shoulders tensed at this. 

"Community service, no jail time," Jake assured him, "You won't lose your kids."

"You're the best, Peralta," he said, and something about it made Jake's heart flutter. 

Shoving the sensation deep down, he shot a pair of awkward finger guns at the Pontiac Bandit and then made his way out of the interrogation room.

* * *

Jake was watching Die Hard when the sound of someone at his door interrupted him. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He wasn't expecting anyone. As he crept up to the door, he wondered if he was about to get the action movie moment he dreamed of every night. He was a cop after all, and he'd made a lot of dangerous enemies. 

That fantasy was shut down when he reached his destination, but he had both literally and figuratively opened the door to tens of thousands more. None other than Doug Judy stood in the doorway, sporting a dark heather grey hoodie. Jake found himself thinking that it must be really soft. 

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in holding! How did you even-" he cut himself off, "Do you have any idea how illegal this is?"

Judy answered him definitively, as though he knew exactly what was about to happen. "Yes, I do." 

A swirl of feelings rose up in him that he couldn't identify. 

"You can't be here," he hissed.

Judy smirked. "And yet, here I am."

Jake didn't answer him, because what could he have possibly said, what was he even supposed to say when all he could look at were those lips. 

Ultimately, Judy was the one to break the silence. 

"You want this," he said, but he tilted the end up into a question and Jake almost melted because he cared. He cared enough to ask, and that was everything. 

The feelings he'd been suppressing came out all in one smug answer, "Yes, I do."

A grin broke out on Judy's face as he stepped into Jake's apartment. "You know, you're really sexy when you're giving me consent."

Those were the last complete sentences they said for a while.

* * *

Jake lay in his bed, breathing deeply, still taking in the scent of Doug Judy next to him. 

"That was good," he whispered. 

Judy shifted closer to him. "T'was," he answered.

Jake let out a yawn, the simple act of lying down in his bed after working cases nonstop for the past few days finally catching up to him. Judy snorted at this.

"Are you tired?"

"No," Jake said through another yawn. His bleary eyes barely caught the smile on his boyfriend's lips. Were they boyfriends? They'd have to have that conversation at some point, he thought, but he was just so tired right now.

"You should get some rest, I bet you've been working hard."

Jake shook his head half-heartedly.

The smile turned to a frown. "You still don't trust me."

This time, Jake was quick to answer. "No, I do. It's just I should be getting back to work."

"Your shift is over though."

"I can't really stop working."

Judy seemed to understand. "Oh, you got issues."

Jake made a noncommittal noise that Judy correctly interpreted as sleepy agreement. 

"Plus, it's too cold."

Judy reached down over the side of the bed to grab the hoodie he'd been wearing, and Jake allowed him to slip it over his shoulders. As it turned out, Jake had been right about it being the softest thing ever. 

"Get some sleep."

"M'kay," he mumbled, snuggling into Judy so that his head rested on his chest. Before he knew it, he was out cold.

* * *

He awoke with a start to an empty bed. 

Almost forgetting to put on pants, he dashed down to his car and broke every traffic law in the book on his way to the precinct. 

He exploded out of the elevator, where Amy was waiting for him. She put an arm out to catch him as he tripped over his own feet. 

"I'm sorry, he's long gone already."

Jake kicked out at a nearby bench, cursing as he made contact with it harder than he'd expected. He couldn't stop the tears that came to his eyes.

"But hey," she added, trying to calm him, "he left a note with one of the perps in holding to give to you."

He grabbed the piece of paper from her more roughly than he meant to, apologizing to her as he opened it and began to read.

_"Jake Peralta,_

_I'm sorry I had to do this to you, man, but I can't do community service. I ain't got no time. I gotta make $$$ for my kids so that they don't have to live on the streets. But I promise, as soon as I can afford it, I'm going clean, for real this time, and then I'll come back for you. I really want you to meet my kids. I think you'd like them, especially my daughter. She's just like you._

_Anyways, buh-BYE,_

_Ya Boi™ Doug Judy_

_Oh, and you can keep the hoodie until then ;)"_

He hadn't even realized he was still crying until a salty drop splashed into the page.

"Jake, are you oka-"

"JUDYYYYYYYYYY!" he shouted, only stopping when he could no longer stand the pity in the eyes of his squad. 

"Don't worry," Boyle said, "You'll get him next time."

"Yeah, I ship it," Rosa deadpanned, causing the rest of them to burst out laughing.

"Whatever," Jake muttered. Then, embarrassed, he added quietly, "But I'm keeping the hoodie." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doug Judy is respectful of other people's boundaries and bodies because he is a king and anyone who believes otherwise can fIGHT ME.
> 
> Also, yes, he did handwrite the ™ symbol in his goodbye note to Jake.


	19. Everything is Boring (until it isn't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Alex267856: "Hi! Can you please do a kevin/Holt FIC? AngstKevin is my favorite and maybe the squad has to help Holt to save Kevin. You go crazy! I totally trust you. Thanks in advance :)"
> 
> I have been working on this one for a while, but I keep trying to write it and my brain just shuts down because I've been really busy lately, but my athletic season is just about over so I should have more time and be less exhausted from here on out. I would have finished it sooner but I needed a break, so thank you for your patience.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: shooting, gunshot wounds, death, dead bodies, blood

'Everything is boring' was the precise thought that Holt had right before he got the call. Things had been going slowly in the precinct all day, the squad was feeling it just as much as he was. Even Santiago couldn't bring herself to show her usual enthusiasm for paperwork. A significant lack of new cases didn't help the situation. Petty thefts were boring. Minor vandalism cases were boring. Teenagers dealing a little bit of marijuana were boring. Staring at a computer screen was boring. Watching his squad stare at theirs was even more so. Through inductive reasoning, he came to the conclusion that, if all of these things were boring, everything must be boring. 

_Everything is boring._

But of course, had his brain not been so fatigued by the menial tasks that working in a police precinct entailed, he would have remembered that inductive reasoning was unreliable. Drawing general conclusions from a few specific instances left far too much room for error. In fact, it seemed to him that he'd been so utterly wrong that some higher being had felt the need to prove it to him.

Because nothing that came after that thought was boring.

Look at him now, starting sentences with conjunctions as though nothing mattered. Though, he supposed, nothing did matter, not when everything was falling apart. 

_Everything is boring,_ he thought. And then the radio signal came through. 

He strode out of his office. "Squad, everyone. There's an emergency."

Santiago was the first to reach him, the others not far behind. "What is it, sir?"

"I don't know yet, they're about to say." 

The line was silent, as though it was waiting for the Nine-Nine to gather round. 

"There is a shooting underway at Columbia University. Four civilians are confirmed dead, three teachers, one student, as well as several injured. The number of shooters is unknown. All hands on deck, arrive as soon as you can." Terry shuddered. 

"Oh God, that's awful." 

"Four dead already," Rosa frowned, "that's a lot."

"Too many," Charles agreed, tearing up. 

The walkie-talkie clattered to the ground, leaving Holt's shaking hand empty. The squad turned to stare at him. Santiago's brow furrowed. 

"Captain, are you alright?"

"Oh shit." 

Now, everyone was looking at Jake, a silent question on each of their tongues. 

"Columbia University. That's where Kevin teaches."

A single tear rolled down Holt's cheek, and suddenly, he hated himself for being a cliché. 

There was no time for clichés, not now, not ever really- he hated clichés- but certainly not now. 

"Don't just stand there. Gear up! Move, move, move!"

And just like that, everything was suddenly, agonizingly, not boring. 

* * *

When the lockdown was first announced, his students had assumed it was a drill, like always. He would've thought the same if it weren't for the inexplicable tension in his shoulders. And that wasn't the only bizarre phenomenon. Professor Cozner never spoke or acted without thinking of the ramifications first, which is why it was so shocking, even to himself, when his mouth opened of its own accord and spoke the words:

"This is not a drill." 

It didn't make any sense. Apart from his own instincts, he had no reason to believe that. It was stupid of him to have said it to his students, the last thing he wanted was to create unnecessary panic. Although, impending doom was sometimes a symptom of death. No, he shouldn't let himself think that. Besides, that only applied to things like blood transfusions of the wrong type or heart attacks. He couldn't predict the future. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I-"

He was interrupted by banging on the door, far rougher than they usually did to test the locks. 

"Screw that, get down." 

Everything from that point forward Kevin experienced as though it was moving in slow motion. Every moment, every millisecond, he could feel them in excruciating detail. One might think it would help him react faster, maybe save himself, only his own mind moved just as slowly. All he could do was wait for whatever was going to happen to... well, happen. 

He ran deeper into the classroom, watching the blurs that were his students disappear behind tables. He had almost made it to the space underneath his desk- though he knew it wouldn't do much but provide some infinitesimal sense of security- when something hit him in the back of the leg, a piece of wood.

There was a second, an extra second that didn't really exist in time. Perhaps, he was the only person on Earth who was experiencing it, a second in between when he saw that it was a piece of wood that had struck him and when he processed what had happened. This second, this tiny lapse in time, contained the most coherent, _loud_ thought he'd had in a long time.

_Where did this piece of wood come from?_

The noise came after the thought, even though, chronologically, it must have happened before. He didn't hear it until he'd already understood what had occurred. 

He had never anticipated that the sound a door made being broken down would be so earth-shatteringly loud. 

* * *

"Goddammit Peralta, can't you drive any faster?" the captain shouted from the passenger seat. 

"I'm going thirty over the speed limit, we're all going to get seriously injured!"

The car went silent. 

"Bad choice of words, uh, we're all going to die. Oh God, that's worse. We're all going to be fine, but I should not drive any faster or... problems." 

"Smooth," Rosa muttered from the back row. 

They arrived and Jake did what might very well have been a record-breaking parking job, that is, in the sense that it was _real bad_. 

He'd barely stopped the car and Holt was already out and moving, approaching the uniformed officer who was patrolling the edge of the property. By the time the rest of the squad caught up to him, Holt had already received his orders and been allowed in.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the building was how quiet it was. The last time he'd come to visit Kevin at work, the halls had been bustling with students and teachers rushing to their respective classes. The noise had been deafening, footsteps exaggerated by the linoleum flooring, peers shouting curses at each other from across the space, teachers yelling at a comparable volume. 

He'd hated it.

Now, he wished for anything but this eerie silence, even the stampede that seemed to beat down on his eardrums and crash through his skull. Anything would have been better, he thought.

_Anything but this._

* * *

Kevin had faced his fair share of discomfort in life, but this was something else entirely. Standing in front of his students, people who looked up to him, hot metal pressed against the back of his head, he felt completely powerless. It crossed his mind that the gun should have been cold. It must have been fired recently, but on who? Which of his colleagues, or his pupils, had taken the bullet? Were they alive?

He wasn't given any more time to ponder these thoughts.

"You're gonna fucking die." 

Pure muscle memory overtook his body, and roughly half of one of the movements that Raymond had taught him took over his body, as though it was controlling him and not the other way around. 

Just as he would have expected, had he had any time to think, half a self-defense move half-worked to save him. Instead of the back of his head, which probably would have killed him instantly, the bullet passed through him somewhere near his stomach, which would kill him a bit more slowly. 

Of course, he didn't know that. He was in shock. All he knew was that his entire torso was on fire, and blood was pouring out of him like a fucking faucet. Nothing more, nothing less.

This meant that he didn't know he was scrambling forward, ripping a piece of fabric off the wall and pressing it as hard as he could into where he thought the wound was. He didn't know that one of his students had left her hiding spot to run over to him and reposition the temporary bandage into the correct place, even wrapping it around him so it would cover the exit wound too. He didn't know that the shooter had turned and fired on her almost instantaneously.

But he'd watched the whole thing, and slowly, he did know. 

First, he felt her weight against him as she gave out, her hand still pressed painfully into the bullet hole in his body. He heard the barely uttered scream that had dropped dead in her throat and the thump of her shoes against the floor.

He forced himself to look at her, a desperate last attempt to determine if she was saveable or not. But though she was still breathing, her eyes were empty. No one was behind them. 

She was gone. 

Unfortunately, her physical form was very much still there. Her body was too much for Kevin in his weakened state to move, so he remained stuck underneath the corpse of a student who had died trying to save him. He couldn't help but stare at her, her face being just a few inches from his. He couldn't help but feel her breathing get slower and slower until it finally stopped altogether, his hands trapped underneath her, unable to do anything to help. 

It was at this moment that he determined he was inside a real, live nightmare, and he just wanted it to end, one way or another.

Still, there was the part of him- perhaps the sensible one, perhaps not- that wanted to get out of this alive, so he let himself run on autopilot, listening to it. He kept his breathing as shallow as possible, not daring to move a muscle.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there when footsteps raced down the hall, and he had no idea who they belonged to. The shooter turned and ran straight out the door. 

Strange, now that the man with the gun was gone, Kevin found himself wanting to sleep. He vaguely remembered some reason that he shouldn't, something to do with the burning pain that now enveloped his entire body. In fact, he was sure that if Raymond were here, he would want him to stay awake. 

_I should try, for Raymond._

_But I'm just so tired._

* * *

"Sir, we'll take care of him, just go find Kevin."

On any other day, Holt wouldn't even consider an offer like that, especially not from a subordinate. However, today was nothing if not abnormal. 

"Thank you, Detective Peralta." 

He didn't wait for a reply. They had just arrested the final shooter, it wasn't like he was putting anyone in any immediate danger by leaving. 

He went straight the room the perpetrator had last been seen in, praying not to find Kevin in it. Upon opening the door, he discovered a huddle of scared students, as well as a corpse obscuring the face of what appeared to be another body.

"You are all safe. The shooters have been apprehended," he paused to flash his badge, "Have any of you, by chance, seen Professor Cozner?"

Nobody spoke. One student clapped a hand over their mouth. Another, the one closest to him, pointed at the pair of bodies leaning against the wall. He ran across the room. 

"Kevin? Kevin! Kevin, please answer me."

Gently as he could in his haste, he took the body of a young girl and moved it off of him.

Kevin's eyes were shut, and he had bled heavily.

"Kevin," he whispered, "please." 

The universe seemed to answer his plea. His eyelids fluttered until they could stay somewhat open. 

"Yes, Raymond?"

* * *

It took every bit of strength he had in him to speak, but it would be worth it if it meant Raymond would worry just a little bit less. 

"You're alive." Tears streamed down his face, falling freely onto Kevin's already-ruined clothing. 

"That is a factual statement, though I suspect I most likely need immediate medical attention," he said.

"Yes, the medics are coming. Please sustain yourself." His tone held more emotion than he'd seen Raymond display in a long time, and that was saying something. Raymond was quite the emotional man. (Others, namely the captain's colleagues, seemed to disagree, but Kevin knew better. His husband might present himself as a robot, but internally, his emotions were as tumultuous if not more than those of the average man.) 

"I fully intend to. Please relax, Raymond. I am going to be fine."

He nodded slowly, and Kevin could tell he didn't quite believe him. 

"How do you manage to keep yourself so composed?"

Kevin smiled- it was slight, given the degree of his injuries. 

"It's quite simple really. You're here, and I love you, and you make everything alright."

Raymond didn't answer him, only stared down into Kevin's eyes, all the words he wanted to say swimming in the tears that collected in the corners of his own. 

"Ah, the medics are here."

The next thing he knew, Kevin was being whisked away into an ambulance, but not before he heard the one he loved most in the world whisper back to him. 

"I love you so much, Kevin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the waitlist is getting so long, I mean, I love writing y'alls requests of course, it just increases the wait time the more people sign up. But hey, as long as y'all are good with waiting, I'm happy to keep doing it! Thus far, you've all been really patient with me, so thank you for that. I'm always a little bit anxious about taking too long to write these.


	20. We Have Made Her Blind (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Piksy: "Can u do a Peraltiago one where Amy has an eating disorder?"
> 
> Title is from Scars to Your Beautiful by Alessia Cara
> 
> This is part 1, this fic is still in progress. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: eating disorders

"Ames, are you okay in there?" 

When he opened the bathroom door, she was just stepping off the scale. 

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Jake furrowed his brow. "Are you sure? Because that's, like, the fifth time you've been in here today." 

"Just doing my daily weigh-in. It's not a typical side effect but I changed my multivitamin brand and I want to make sure it isn't causing a fluctuation in weight." 

"Of course you are," he sighed, "All good?"

She shaped her lips into a smile, "Yeah, all good."

He planted a peck on her cheek before returning to their shared bedroom to grab a pair of socks, but he balked at the sight of a binder on top of their dresser. It was a soft mint green color, not one he'd seen before. He picked it up and ran his fingers over the outside, considering whether or not to open it. The notable lack of a title card made him even more apprehensive. After all, Amy loved to label things. 

"Did you get a new binder babe?" 

Amy rushed into the room. "Yeah, it's for the multivitamin thing," she stammered. 

He shifted his eyes away from it and scanned her face. There was a certain tension in her jaw and her eyes moved rapidly between him and the binder. 

"Cool," he said, "you want to watch a movie?"

"Sure, yeah, I'll be right there, just one second." 

He sat down on the bed and began to scroll through Netflix, interrupted only briefly by what he thought might be the sound of the bathroom door. 

* * *

As the squad exited the briefing room, all moving to take their places at their respective desks, Jake beckoned Rosa away to the evidence lockup. 

"What's up?"

He fumbled a bit. "Have you noticed anything... off about Amy?"

"Why? Has she been acting weird?"

"I mean, no, kind of? I just, I get a... bad vibe, uh..." He half-expected Rosa to slap him straight in the face for wasting her time. _'A bad vibe?' What was I thinking? She's going to think I'm freaking out over nothing. Am I freaking out over nothing?_

Instead, she nodded. "Okay, is that it?" Jake was surprised to find that there was no judgement in her voice. 

"Not exactly," he hesitated, "She was acting kind of strange yesterday. Apparently, she changed her multivitamin brand and now she's weighing herself every day. She has a binder, and she got super weird when I noticed it." 

She hummed, thinking, "I'll keep an eye out for her. Thanks, man."

"For what?"

"You know," she said, "looking out for her." 

A huge grin burst out on his face. "Aww, you have feelings!"

He was silenced by her glare, but he refused to wipe the smirk off of his face. 

* * *

It was ten minutes after the start of their lunch break when Jake decided it had been long enough to act on his concern. 

Amy was hunched over a case at her desk. She would have appeared completely composed if it weren't for the rapid bouncing of her leg underneath her. 

"Ames, you should take a break. It's lunch, come to the break room and eat with us."

Her head snapped up to look at him. "Oh," she hesitated, "I'll be there in ten, I'm just in the middle of something." She gestured at the file sitting in front of her before turning straight back to it. 

This was no foreign concept to Jake. One of the many features of their relationship was pulling each other out of work when they got too deep. Although, Amy was usually pretty good at work-life balance. Nine times out of ten, he was the one being dragged away from the precinct. 

"Come on, you can work on it after you eat."

"No!" she shouted. "I mean, I'm sorry, I'm just really focused on this case. I'll eat something later, please?" 

He sighed, knowing better than to argue, and returned to the break room.

Throughout the rest of the day, he kept an eye on her. She didn't budge once from her desk throughout the whole of their lunch break. In fact, Jake wasn't sure if it was just the angle he was watching from, but she didn't seem to be writing anything either. But hey, maybe she was just thinking. He didn't really write down much when he was solving cases, but this was Amy. She had a whole binder about multivitamins. Her reports were pages upon pages long. 

That's what he was thinking as lunch came to a close, but he was about halfway back to his desk when he saw her look away from the case file for the first time since he'd approached her.

She reached down and pinched at the skin around her hips, looking almost, disgustedly at it? Jake opened his mouth to say something to her, but then she shook her head and returned to her work and he realized he didn't have any idea what he'd say. He had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on.

But for once, he didn't want to be right. 

He was getting ready to leave when Rosa approached him. "I didn't see Amy at lunch today," she said in a hushed tone as he pulled his coat over his shoulders. 

"I tried to get her to come, but she was really wrapped up in a case," he trailed off. 

Rosa bit her lip. "Did you see her eat at all today?"

Jake shook his head, too lost in his own thoughts to look at her. 

Their conversation was cut off by Amy. She weaved her hand into his and they said goodbye to Rosa. With that, they left the precinct. 

They were just about to get into Jake's car when he asked her, even though he already knew the answer, just to see what she would say. 

"Ames, did you ever get around to eating lunch today?"

Without missing a beat, she replied, "Yeah, I did."

"Right, good."

He pressed the gas and drove away. 

* * *

This time, Rosa was the one to summon Jake away from the bullpen. As soon as they were both fully in the briefing room, Rosa pulled the door shut. 

"I think Amy is wearing two shirts," she hissed. 

In the background of his thoughts, he registered the sensation of his stomach tying itself into a knot. 

"Huh, that's strange," he said through a clenched jaw. 

Rosa furrowed her brow. "You know something. What do you know?"

He sighed, "After we talked yesterday, I asked her if she'd eaten anything. She lied. And, now that I think about it, she kind of just picked at her dinner and talked a lot yesterday. "

"Shit." 

"Do you think she," he trailed off, shoulders tensing, "has an eating disorder?"

"It would explain the double shirts." Rosa frowned. "I don't know." 

As inconspicuously as they could, they returned to their desks, neither of them entirely sure what their course of action should look like. 

Amy looked up at him, her smile wide, and gestured at her computer. 

"Guess what?"

Jake shrugged, "What's up?"

"Kevin is hosting another birthday party for Holt at their house. The whole squad got invited." 

"Oh my God, how excited are you?"

"It's next week. I can't wait," she somewhat-shrieked, and her grin stretched even further across her face. 

But somehow, it still didn't reach her eyes.

That night, as they fell asleep, Jake slipped his arms around her waist.

"Tomorrow's our day off, are you excited?"

She hummed in acknowledgment, not even opening her eyes.

He nuzzled his face into her and was surprised to find a second layer of clothing still there. 

"Ames, why are you wearing two shirts?" 

He felt her breathing quicken for just a moment before she answered. 

"I'm always cold, you know that."

He nodded distractedly, trying desperately to come up with some kind of a plan. As it stood, the facts were that Amy Santiago was hiding something from him, she was going to great lengths to hide it, and the signs pointed to it being something potentially dangerous. How was he supposed to help her if he didn't even know what she was dealing with? He sighed. 

"G'night, babe."

He closed his eyes and fell instantaneously into sleep. 

He couldn't remember his dream when he woke up, but he knew that it had to do with Amy. She was already out of bed, claiming to have eaten breakfast already. He didn't believe her. In some twisted form of protest, Jake told her he wasn't really hungry, even as his stomach screamed in protest. 

It was around noon when he caved. 

"We should go out for lunch." 

Amy turned to face him, and for a split second, she looked like a deer in the headlights. 

"No, thanks. I'm kind of tired," she said.

"Okay, I'll cook you something. What are you in the mood for?" 

"I'm not really that hungry, I think I'll just hold out until dinner."

He wasn't entirely sure why, but suddenly, he was angry. He figured part of it had to do with what had started to become an ache in his stomach, but there was more to it than that. He _had_ to get it out of her. He needed her to confess, as though she was a criminal in the interrogation room. 

"What did you have for breakfast?" 

"I," she cracked, just a tiny bit, "made myself some eggs." 

What was his next tactic? She was smooth- practiced, even- but she couldn't keep this up forever. He needed to stay on the attack. Eventually, she'd give in. 

"I think I'll do that too. Let me grab the eggs out of the refrigerator." Hopefully, there wouldn't be any eggs missing from the carton. She'd have to tell him the truth if he caught her in a bald-faced lie. 

"You told me you didn't like eggs that much. Wouldn't you rather have mac and cheese or something?"

Shit, he'd forgotten about that. 

"No, I really think I'm in the mood for eggs today," he insisted, imbuing just a little too much emotion into his tone. If she hadn't known that he was on to her before, she certainly did now. 

And it showed. 

"Stop!" Amy cried, "I'll make them for you." 

_I've got her._

"You can't cook, Amy." 

Her voice shook a little bit. "I can handle eggs, the ones I made this morning were really good."

"You don't have to do that."

Though he couldn't yet pinpoint it, something started to feel very wrong. 

"No, please, I want to." She was begging him. 

"How about we make them together? I'll grab the eggs, you start preheating the stove."

Before she could argue, he strode over to the fridge and grabbed the carton. Surely enough, all twelve eggs were inside. 

"The carton's full, Amy."

He turned back to confront her, and there she stood, biting her lip to try and stop the trembling, and failing miserably. A single tear dripped down her face, followed closely by another, and then it was like the floodgates had opened. Her face turned redder and redder as the stream of tears poured out of her eyes. 

She wasn't a criminal. 

He wasn't in an interrogation room. 

_What the hell am I doing?_

"Oh fuck, Ames-"

She ran. He followed her, but the bathroom door slammed in his face, just inches away from smacking him on the nose. The lock clicked into place. 

"Amy, please let me in."

The only answer he received was a muffled sob from the other side of the door. 

"Amy," he repeated, "I'm so sorry."

He pressed his forehead to the door. 

"I'm so sorry, and I got caught up. I felt like you couldn't trust me, and I felt like it was my fault, and, and," he stammered, "and it hurt. But it hurts more now because I love you and I'm scared. You're not okay and I love you so much, and I can't lose you. So please, tell me what's wrong."

There was only silence. 

He slumped to the ground, teardrops now flowing freely from his face as they had just moments before from hers. 

"I fucked up," he choked out, "I never wanted to hurt you. This is really hard for me, and that's not an excuse, I just want you to know, I mean, it's- the point is, I love you."

No response. 

"Please, Ames," he whispered, "Open the door." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my stories keep coming out in all dialogue because I sort of try to mimic the style of B99 as a TV show, and well, TV shows have a ton of dialogue. I sort of tried to make a conscious effort to insert more narration into this one. Do you guys want me to try to do more of that or do you prefer the dialogue-heavy style? I'd love to hear y'all's opinion.
> 
> Part 2 coming soon!


	21. HIATUS 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

DISCLAIMER: This is a no grammar zone, grammar does not exist here.

Hey y'all, Try here.

Gosh I hate to do this, but everything is stressful as heckity heck and I need a break. I hate that I can't update more but things just never seem to get less busy, and every time that I think they will, something else comes up. I remember the good old early quarantine days when I updated once/twice a week like a good samaritan, but that simply is not an option anymore. When I think about this fic, I get overwhelmed because I have so many requests in my inbox that I want to write, and I just keep getting more.

DO NOT GET ME WRONG. THAT IS GREAT. I LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT.

But it is also very difficult for me to keep up with it all. So, I'm sticking with the same rules as last time: if you already put in a request, don't worry, I'm still on it. It will get posted whenever it would have gotten posted had I not gone on hiatus. Just don't add any more requests to my inbox please. I don't know when I'll come back, probably in a few months, when my inbox is empty and I feel human again. I also might want to work on some other projects, maybe even some other fandoms.

Also, I'm starting to think about the ending point for this request book, because it simply cannot exist forever, I don't have the energy for that. I'm thinking that I'll stop at 50 requests. I thought about going to a hundred, but I don't think I can keep this up for that long, and I want it stay fun. Writing fanfiction is supposed to be relaxing for me, and I don't want it to become a chore.

Thank you again for the great response that I have gotten to this request book.

Also, @Piksy, I swear to God I am writing and making progress on your request. I worked on it yesterday, it's coming along. I sincerely apologize to you and to everyone that I take 8 billion years to put out a request.

\- Try


	22. We Have Made Her Blind (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Piksy: "Can u do a Peraltiago one where Amy has an eating disorder?"
> 
> Title is from Scars to Your Beautiful by Alessia Cara
> 
> Part 2 y'all! Finally! Sorry it took so long, school stuff got really hectic towards the end of the semester and I had to take a break from this to avoid failing all my classes. At some point I swear I'm going to try to get back to a somewhat regular posting schedule.
> 
> Also, thank you all so much for your support on my recent update about going on hiatus. You guys are the most wonderful fandom I swear to God, I've received nothing but positivity from you and it helps a lot with the stress that I feel

Jake parked the car in front of Holt's house. He could see the warm lights coming from inside, even hear traces of laughter. Holt's house was practically a second home to him, and Holt and Kevin were like his dads. Still, he felt none of the usual coziness that washed over him when he neared the house, no sense of security. He opened the car door anyway. 

"Amy, please, it's been a day. I'm worried about you. Talk to me?"

He received no answer. 

The second they stepped over the threshold, he watched his wife plaster on a smile. She was good at it. If he hadn't known better, he would have taken it at face value. He might not have even noticed anything off about it. That killed him a little bit. He should have been able to tell the difference.

Amy greeted Holt, but the words didn't register in his head. As soon as she was done speaking, she disappeared.

"Hello, Jacob. It is good to see you." 

"Happy Birthday, Captain." He tried to do what Amy had done and slap on his signature grin, but he wasn't as practiced at it. 

Holt furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm all good." When that didn't satisfy him, Jake added, "Just a headache. It'll probably go away after a drink or two."

"Your lack of concern for your own wellbeing is quite concerning."

Jake laughed, "It's fine, it's not like there's any important organs in my head anyway." 

The captain did not answer him. Instead, he stood, flabbergasted, unable to determine whether or not his detective was joking. Jake took this opportunity to leave the conversation and go find Rosa. 

As soon as they spotted each other, she beckoned him over to a deserted couch. Jake plopped down onto it, an "oomph" escaping him at the impact, and then slouched against the cushions.

"Hey man, you okay? You're staring at the wall."

"It got worse. I made it worse," he corrected. 

Rosa started to ask the question but figured it out before she could finish. "You mean Amy." She received a nod in response. 

"What happened?"

Jake explained the whole thing to her, sparing no detail: how he'd interrogated her, how she'd cried, how he'd probably destroyed her health and their relationship forever, etc. 

"You made a mistake. This shit is hard. Give yourself a break. Make it up to her, and then move on."

He shook his head. "I feel like the worst person ever."

"You're not, don't go there." She put a hand on his shoulder and he leaned into it, taking it as an invitation to lean against her. She rolled her eyes but didn't make any move to eject him from her personal space. 

"I'm scared, Rosa. Eating disorders kill people. What if she dies?" 

"You live together; there's only so much she can hide from you. Either way, it doesn't help to worry about it. If it gets that bad, we'll deal with it."

Before Jake could argue, Holt appeared in front of him. 

"Is Santiago with you? I haven't seen her since your arrival."

His heart pounded against his chest. 

"No," he stammered, "I thought she'd be with you." When his captain raised an eyebrow, he added sheepishly, "She's not super happy with me right now."

"Is something troubling you?"

"I don't, I can't, I have to go find Amy." 

Yet again, he left Holt with a half-answer. He felt a little bad about it. After all, it was his birthday, but Jake couldn't let himself think about that right now, not with blood roaring in his ears as he dashed up the forbidden staircase. 

He'd barely made it to the top when he heard her crying.

"Amy!"

He made his way to the bathroom that he, the Lieutenant, and Amy had hid in just a year before. Cheddar was noticeably absent- Holt had decided to leave him to roam the backyard instead of the bathroom- yet Amy was red-faced, puffy-eyed, and struggling to breathe once again. She sat on the ground, holding her knees tightly to her chest. 

"Ames, oh God, what's wrong?"

She sniffled, "I can't do it." He sat down next to her and, though tentatively, slipped an arm around her shoulders. 

"What's going on?"

"There so much food down there and so many people, and I can't," then, softer, she went on, "You were right." 

His heart expanded in his chest, feeling like it would burst at any second. 

"Babe, no. I was an ass. I went too far. I forgot that we're on the same side," he admitted, sure that his shame in the air was so thick that she must have been able to see it. 

"Not that part. You were right about m-" she stopped abruptly. "My eating disorder. You were right about that." 

Suddenly, Jake's vision was swimming. "I'm so sorry, Ames." 

"I forgive you."

She snuggled into him, her head pressing against his chest. 

"Let's go home," he said. 

She nodded dazedly, "Yeah." 

* * *

Jake woke up to Amy asleep in his arms, and for one blissful moment, his world was at peace. 

Then, it occurred to him that she probably hadn't woken up yet because her body was exhausted from functioning through food and sleep deprivation. This was probably the first time she hadn't forced herself to get up in a while. His arm started to ache, her ribcage- more prominent than he remembered- poking at it, but he let it be. He had no intentions of disturbing Amy's much-needed sleep. 

Fortunately for his arm, it wasn't too long until she woke. When she did, she seemed to go through the same process he did: a feeling of contentment that was quickly interrupted by life.

"Morning, Ames," he whispered, "We should talk."

Her shoulders tensed in protest, but she hummed in agreement. 

"So, how do we do this?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to tell you, I don't know what you want to know." Amy's breathing started to quicken. Her eyes glazed over, pupils shrinking, and even though she was looking in his direction, Jake could tell she wasn't seeing him anymore. 

"Hey," he said, careful not to startle her. "I can ask you questions, you can take your time answering, and we'll see where it goes, okay?"

She took a deep breath and signaled for him to begin. 

"When did it start?"

She thought for a moment. "Remember when I went on that diet with Terry and Gina?"

Jake saw red. He'd always felt a little weird about dieting, especially as intensely as they'd been doing it. How could he not have noticed? Between the hunger-induced rage and Terry's digestive issues, it wasn't hard to tell that it was hurting their bodies. Why didn't he say anything? Were Terry and Gina hurting too? 

Before he could spiral any further, Amy continued. "It was probably an unhealthy diet to begin with, but after I screwed up and dropped out, I took it further on my own. I already felt bad about my body, and putting focus on it by dieting made it worse. I've been kind of on and off since then."

"Diet culture is total bullshit." 

Amy cocked her head at this. 

"How do you even know what that means?" 

Jake blushed. "Since I suspected you might have an eating disorder, I did a little bit of research. Somehow I ended up at tumblr? I went all the way down the rabbit hole." 

For the first time in a long time, he was blessed with her laugh. 

"Alright, what's next?"

"Probably therapy," he replied. 

"I meant for you to ask the next question." 

"Oh, uh, do you think you should see a therapist?"

Amy smiled warily. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

Jake noticed the strain on her facial expression. 

"You can do this. You know that, right?"

She didn't answer right away. "You'll stay with me?"

"Of course! I will be here, no matter what. You're not gonna scare me away."

"Then yeah, I can." 


End file.
